Harry Potter and the Wizard's Apprentice
by allyangel
Summary: Harry's 6th year at Hogwarts; follows canon as closely as possible. Voldemort strikes back, Ron wizens up, and Harry discovers long lost family secrets. Death Eaters, animagi, and hormones run amuck. Chaos ensues.
1. Photographs and Memories

Harry Potter  
  
And The Wizard's Apprentice  
  
Book 6  
  
Chapter One  
Photographs and Memories  
  
The car ride home to Privet Drive had never felt slower. Still shocked from the confrontation by Mr. Weasley, Lupin, Tonks, and Mad-Eye at King's Cross, the Dursleys sat in a glowering silence. Harry stared unseeingly out the window from the backseat of the Dursleys' car. Time seemed to stand still, the car was not really moving- the streets and houses were just flying by him instead. Now that he was away from all the distractions of Hogwarts, away from all of his friends, he was unable to shake thoughts of Sirius from his head. Sirius transforming into a great black dog. Sirius shaking out his hair and giving a bark of laughter. Sirius singing Christmas carols. and always, Sirius falling backwards with a slightly puzzled expression on his face. falling backwards through a veil that rippled silently as though blown with a light breeze. Harry had still not worked out the mystery of the arch and its veil, but he did know one thing. He would never allow someone to die because of his mistake- because of his ignorance and impatience- ever again. No one else was going to die because he, Harry, was too stubborn to listen to reason. If he had just listened to Hermione- if only he had not been so stupid as to believe Voldemort could just waltz into the Ministry of Magic and stay for hours, waiting for Harry to arrive. If only he had remembered the mirror. But no, he was not going to think like that. He was not going to wallow in self pity any longer. Snape was right- he was weak. Harry still hated Snape for holding a grudge and not allowing Harry to continue Occlumency, especially since it was apparent Snape knew the risks of Voldemort penetrating Harry's brain. Now Harry hated him even more for being right- Harry did wear his feelings on his sleeve and it had gotten Sirius killed. He vowed to himself that next time he would be prepared, and then he would see who had the last laugh. His scar throbbed painfully. Harry sighed and leaned his forehead against the car window. The glass felt cool, soothing his burning scar. It was a mark of how intimidated the Dursleys were that no one scolded him for smudging the window. Mentally, he began listing preparations he would need to take, so that when he faced Voldemort again, he would be ready. It had begun.  
  
~*~  
  
Harry did not have to wait long for news from the wizarding world. The next night as he lay in bed staring at the darkness above, deep in his own thoughts, he was startled fully awake by a loud tap-tap on his window. Instinctively, Harry reached under his pillow for his wand, which he now kept there at night. Relaxing, Harry realised it was not a Death Eater as he had been thinking about, but a large, colourfully plumed bird.  
  
"Fawkes!" Harry exclaimed, jumping to his knees in the bed and throwing the window open. Fawkes soared gracefully around the room once before dropping a small package onto Harry's knees. Then, with a single note of song that warmed Harry's heart, Fawkes disappeared with a flash of fire, leaving only a single feather. Picking up the feather, Harry laid it carefully on his desk before turning to the package. It was covered in plain brown paper that Harry ripped off and tossed to the floor.  
  
Underneath the wrapping was a- "Chocolate Frog?" Harry mused to himself. He opened up the box and pulled out the collectible card inside. Harry had barely time to register surprise at the coincidence of it being Dumbledore on the card when the likeness spoke to him.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore's voice spoke gently to him.  
  
"Professor?" Harry gasped in amazement.  
  
Dumbledore's picture smiled at him before continuing. "I know that you are and will be anxious to hear wizarding news. You will, however, have to stay at your aunt and uncle's for at least a month. You are aware of the reason for this. I know it will be difficult for you but you are not to leave the house without your aunt or uncle present. This is for your own protection," he continued, seeing the arrested look on Harry's face. "The ministry may be seeing things our way but I don't want to give them an excuse to have any power over you. I am hoping," he said with a chuckle, "that certain events at King's Cross may lighten your stay here somewhat. Also, remember that owl post is still being watched, especially yours. Do you understand?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Harry mumbled.  
  
Dumbledore smiled understandingly. "Things are not always as bad as they seem, Harry. A month will be over before you know it." With one last smile at him, Dumbledore's picture left the card, leaving him looking at a blank space. Harry sighed and placed the card next to Fawkes' feather on his desk. He chewed the chocolate frog slowly, thinking about what Dumbledore said.  
  
~*~  
  
The weeks after talking to Dumbledore went by without incident. Harry spent the time poring over all over his Defense Against the Dark Arts books, memorising all the curses, counter curses, and jinxes that he could find, reading late into the night and only stopping when his eyes grew so tired that the words blurred before him. When he couldn't read any longer, Harry would use a ragged, bitten pencil of Dudley's to practise wand movements.  
  
Harry usually preferred to stay up in his room, either sitting at his desk reading, or sprawled on his bed, thinking pensively. Every now and then, he would venture downstairs, whether just for a change of scenery, or simply because he could not spend another minute cooped up in his room. On these occasions, he would wander aimlessly around the house gazing unseeingly at his surroundings. If another Dursley happened to be in that particular room, he or she would jump up and leave muttering under their breath about needing to go do. something. Harry didn't mind, he actually preferred their silence to the screaming insults they used to hurl his way.  
  
Likewise, mealtimes at the Dursleys' were also a definite improvement over the previous summers. For once, he was allowed as much as he wanted to eat. In fact, and the few times he'd mused to himself how he would "love some treacle tart," or "really missed the steak and kidney pie at school," Aunt Petunia would decide to run to the grocery, and that very meal would appear at dinner that night. Harry had no doubts that these changes had everything to do with the "talk" at King's Cross- and nothing at all to do with any change of heart from the Dursleys. However, because of this, and the lack of any real exercise, Harry was finally- for once in his life- putting on weight. Someone would be hard pressed to even call him skinny anymore.  
  
Undisputedly, the most pronounced change since returning to the Dursleys was Dudley Dursley himself. He hardly ever went out with his old friends- Piers Polkiss and that lot- instead, he usually stayed home watching TV or rode his bike around the neighborhood alone. If Dudley did happen go out with friends, he returned early and not once did Harry even overhear him bragging about beating up some kid. When Dudley got a brand new sports for his 16th birthday, he only halfheartedly bragged about it to Harry. Most of the time, Dudley avoided Harry altogether, or gave Harry long stares he could not interpret. Harry supposed that this change was due to whatever the Dementors had forced Dudley to feel, but he was too consumed in his own haunted memories to give it much thought.  
  
Harry sent the obligatory notes to Ron, Hermione, Hagrid and Professor Lupin, reassuring them that he was fine and that the Dursleys were not mistreating him- at least it gave Hedwig something to do. They sent him letters back, usually different variations of the same thing:  
  
We're fine, keeping busy like last summer- you know.  
  
Can't say much, but we miss you and will tell you everything soon.  
  
He was surprised when he received a letter from Ginny his first week back, and although it didn't differ much from what the others wrote- just a sincere sounding note asking how he was dealing with things- he hesitated to write her back, unsure of what to say. However, her voice echoed in his head, "bit stupid of you seeing as you don't know anyone but me who's been possessed by You-Know-Who." Thinking of this, and the guilt she must have felt after Voldemort used her. opening the Chamber of Secrets. and all those students who were petrified. He found himself confiding to her like no one else since Sirius. All the shame and anger he had felt over the last few weeks- even some fear- he poured into his letters to her, careful to skirt around condemning details in case they were intercepted. Ginny reciprocated the same way, telling of her own experiences during her first year in her many return letters. Harry suspected she had been holding a lot of it inside herself over the last few years, and he felt a strange sense of understanding grow between them.  
  
Like last summer, he paid an owl to receive the Daily Prophet every morning. However, also like last summer, it was strangely devoid of news of Voldemort. Sure, there were the general articles blaming the Ministry for not believing the signs of Voldemort's return and ways to protect houses and families against Death Eater raids. However, nowhere was there a mention of Voldemort's current activities. No Dark Marks, no strange deaths. even his scar had scarcely twitched since Harry arrived at Privet Drive. Harry wanted to take this as a good sign, but he was eerily discomforted.  
  
The evening before the first month of summer vacation would be over, Harry sat on the floor of his room packing his things into his trunk, hoping desperately that it would not be in vain, that he would be leaving the next day. He heard a familiar tap-tap at the window and looked up, expecting to see Fawkes. He was disappointed, however, to see a plain brown barn owl peering at him from round yellow eyes. Harry opened the latch on the window and it flew in, dropping a fat envelope bearing the school's crest on Harry's bed before landing on the desk. Hedwig flew out of her cage to give the brown owl room so it could take a drink of her water. The brown owl hooted appreciatively and rested a few moments before hurrying on its way. Harry recognised the envelope as the usual one from Hogwarts, but it was much thicker than normal. He opened the envelope, removed four pieces of parchment, and felt his heart in his throat as he realised it was his O.W.L results. His green eyes zipped over the first piece of parchment, taking it all in.  
  
Dear Mr. Potter,  
  
Your O.W.L. results are as follows:  
  
Astronomy-Poor  
  
Care of Magical Creatures-Excellent  
  
Charms-Excellent  
  
Defense Against the Dark Arts-Outstanding  
  
Divination-Poor  
  
Herbology-Acceptable  
  
History of Magic-Terrible  
  
Potions-Acceptable  
  
Transfiguration-Excellent  
  
Hope your summer is going well.  
  
Yours Sincerely,  
  
Professor Griselda Marchbanks  
  
High O.W.L. Examiner  
  
Harry's breath caught in his throat- an "O" in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The first real smile since Sirius died spread across his face. He was right- he had aced the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam! Hermione had told him that O.W.L.s counted as long as you got an "A"- acceptable- score or above. That meant that he had one. two. six O.W.L.s! That equaled the Weasley twins' combined results. Well. of course they didn't try though. He scanned over the results again. A "T" in History of Magic, well, no surprise there. He didn't even complete an entire question on the exam. The rest were as good as or better than he expected. At least he was free of Divination now. though he would have enjoyed more lessons from Firenze. Snape was going to be furious when he found out Harry passed in Potions. Wait. Snape. oh no! Professor McGonagall said that Snape only allowed students who earned an Outstanding or above on their O.W.L.s to take his N.E.W.T class. Without Potions, he'd never get into the Auror program! All the happiness in his chest died away as fast as it had come. If he was being honest with himself, he knew that he did not deserve an Outstanding in Snape's class. but he had hoped maybe.. He sighed and looked at the other pieces of parchment. The second letter was written in Professor McGonagall's neat handwriting:  
  
Dear Mr. Potter,  
  
As your head of house it is my task to remind you to pick at  
least six classes for your upcoming sixth year at Hogwarts. Please  
check off the classes you wish to attend at the bottom of this  
parchment and return it to me promptly. It is also my duty to inform  
you that due to lack of participation, the N.E.W.T. level Potions  
class is open to all students with a passing score.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Minerva McGonagall  
  
Deputy Headmistress  
  
Harry grinned as he read the letter- "lack of participation," indeed. He couldn't imagine a less popular class than Snape's Potions- well, except for that Umbridge cow's Defense Against the Dark Arts. It must have been an all time low, though, to make Snape lower his acceptance requirement. Another tap-tap on the window made him jump; he glanced over to the window and spotted a feathered gray tennis ball bobbing up and down outside the window.  
  
"Hullo, Pig," Harry said cheerfully to Ron's owl, letting the tiny owl in, already anticipating what the letter would say. He opened the sealed parchment and was pleased to find out that Ron had gotten O.W.L.s in seven of his classes although they were mostly just "A's". Hermione, of course, had received twelve Outstanding O.W.L.s- the highest score one could get at Hogwarts. It seemed that Ron planned on keeping all the regular classes but dropping Astronomy, Divination, and History of Magic. Harry jotted off a quick note to Ron about his own O.W.L. scores, and that he would sign up for the same classes, before sending it off with Pig.  
  
Harry turned back to his own parchment and hurriedly checked off Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, and after a moment's hesitation- Potions. He hated the idea of being stuck in Snape's class for another year but he had no choice if he wanted to be an Auror. Harry sent his requested classes off with Hedwig to be returned to Professor McGonagall, and then turned back to the next piece of parchment in his hand. The third letter contained the booklist for the next year, depending on which classes each student was going to take. The only thing different about this was a small note at the bottom advising students to bring dress robes. Harry groaned. Not another ball! The last one was bad enough, however, at least this time he wouldn't have to lead the stupid dance. Maybe that meant he wouldn't have to go at all. He finally picked up the fourth and shortest letter and recognised Dumbledore's narrow, loopy handwriting at once.  
  
Harry,  
  
Enclosed you will find a Muggle key. It is actually a Portkey  
and will activate precisely at 3:00 tomorrow afternoon to take you to  
where Ron and Hermione are staying. Please leave it in your pocket so  
there will be no mistake~ Prof. Dumbledore  
  
Harry looked into the envelope a second time and pulled out a Muggle house key. He stuck it hastily into his jeans pocket as Aunt Petunia called him to come downstairs.  
  
Dinner that night was a silent affair as usual, punctuated only by the clinking of silverware on dishes. The three Dursleys sat around the table determinedly not meeting Harry's eyes. Aunt Petunia was as bony as ever, her hair pulled into a tight bun, her bright green dress spotless. Uncle Vernon's face ranged from a sickly yellow to a dark purple, depending on if he accidentally looked at Harry or not. Uncle Vernon was not taking the confrontation from King's Cross well at all. He seemed to think it a breach on his manliness and was continuously conflicted between either standing up for his family or being forced to deal with wizards. Dudley just sat shoveling food in his mouth. He still had the same thick muscular body from last summer; apparently, he had not given up the school's wrestling team. No doubt, he had eventually realized that if he got enough exercise, he could eat a lot more without gaining weight back.  
  
Eventually, Harry was forced to break the silence to inform them that he would be departing the next afternoon. He waited until he had eaten his fill, stood up to return upstairs, and then said nonchalantly, "I'm leaving tomorrow at 3:00 p.m. to go to my friend Ron's house."  
  
Uncle Vernon turned an unpleasant shade of puce and muttered darkly, "I suppose you'll be wanting us to drive you somewhere, will you?"  
  
"No," Harry said shortly. "It won't be necessary."  
  
"There won't be any of- of your kind showing up here or anything?"  
  
"No," Harry replied dully. He paused, considering if he should say more. "I'll be taking a Portkey. That's when a wizard or witch charms a Muggle object to-,"  
  
"STOP! THAT'LL BE ENOUGH FROM YOU BOY!" Uncle Vernon bellowed, obviously feeling safe since Harry was leaving tomorrow- he probably thought that Harry wouldn't have time to write Lupin or Mr. Weasley and complain about how he was being. "We had far too much of this rubbishy talk from you last summer boy- about all those Dementoids and that-that Lord Volde-thingy!" he paused, as if contemplating whether to continue. "I suppose he's still out to get you then?"  
  
Harry's fists clenched in his pocket, anger coursing through him at the fact that he must deal with Uncle Vernon's stupidity- his blind, narrow- minded ignorance- along with everything else. He didn't trust himself to speak so he just nodded mutely, feeling his scar start to throb against his forehead.  
  
"Well I can't say that I blame him as much trouble as you cause. Though it's been a nice change, you keeping yourself up in that room-,"  
  
"YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE TALKING ABOUT!" Harry roared back without warning, feeling his patience snap. He couldn't believe that not only was he expected to defeat Voldemort, oh no-he had to put up with this utter bullshit from his uncle as well. If Uncle Vernon had to face a tenth of what he, Harry, had been through, he would go stark raving mad.  
  
Then, remembering his promise to keep emotions under check, he forced himself to continue with feigned calmness through clenched teeth. "If it weren't for me you wouldn't even be alive. Do you actually think the darkest wizard of our time will care that you're a Muggle- that you drive an expensive car or own a nice house? He won't care. If he regains power no one will be safe- AND I'M THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN STOP HIM!"  
  
Harry's resolve had snapped, his voice had reached a shrieking pitch and his scar seared white-hot against his forehead. He heard glass exploding all around him and realised that Aunt Petunia's china lay shattered over the entire kitchen. He stopped speaking suddenly and stared at the three petrified faces gaping horrifically at him.  
  
"Right then, well, I'm going to bed," he finished lamely, turned, and walked back up to his room, his footsteps crunching loudly over the shards of china.  
  
~*~  
  
He lay on his bed for almost an hour with one arm slung over his eyes, blocking out all light and willing his scar to quit throbbing. He HAD to get control over himself. He could not afford to lose his temper like this if he expected to beat Voldemort. Harry practiced what Snape had told him about Occlumency-trying to void himself of all emotion. After a while, surprisingly, his breathing actually slowed and his scar no longer ached. All he allowed himself to think about was the wind he could hear stirring the tree outside his window.  
  
Once he felt calm again, he slid down onto the floor to finish packing things in his trunk. He cleaned out his bedside table, pressing Fawkes' feather and Dumbledore's card carefully in between the pages of his Transfiguration book. He grabbed a pile of parchment stuffed in the table's middle drawer and realised, with some shock, that it was all of his letters from Ginny. He couldn't believe there were so many. He flipped through them and started to chuck them in the dustbin but something stopped him. Instead, he tucked them gently underneath his clothes at the bottom of his trunk. As he was pulling his hand back, he felt a sharp nick on his thumb. Harry jerked his hand away and saw that a drop of bright red blood was already welling up on the knuckle. He sucked at the wound and peered over the side of the trunk to see what the offending item was. His face paled and the air left his lungs as he realised it was a shard of glass from a mirror. Sirius' mirror. Harry sat transfixed, kneeling there on the floor, staring at the silvery fragment when a timid knock came on his door.  
  
Shocked, because no one had ever bothered knocking on his door before, Harry stood up to open it. Before him in the doorway stood Aunt Petunia holding an old cardboard shoebox and looking incredibly nervous.  
  
"May- may I come in?" she squeaked, with none of her usual briskness.  
  
"Er, yeah. of course," Harry stumbled on his words, feeling very unsure of himself, being in unknown territory.  
  
Aunt Petunia shoved the box at him and said very quickly, "These- these were my sister's belongings- your mother's, of course- they saved some of her things from the house when. when." Her voice trailed off, unsure.  
  
"When Voldemort attacked my parents?" Harry asked quietly.  
  
Aunt Petunia nodded wordlessly. "I thought you would want to have it since. well, He's back now. and- and it is your birthday tomorrow, after all. Besides, what would people say if someone ran across it?" she finished in her more normal tone of voice, turning to leave.  
  
"Aunt Petunia..." Harry said timidly, unsure of what he really wanted to say. She actually knew when his birthday was? However, "Er- thanks," was all he managed. She nodded briskly and left the room.  
  
Harry plopped down on the bed and flipped off the lid. Inside the box were tons of old photos, newspaper clippings, and notes, apparently from his dad. He pulled out the clippings first- they were all from the Daily Prophet- and was shocked to see the one lying on top of everything else. It displayed a picture of a house, one half of it completely blown away. He could see smoke billowing up around it, and grim looking witches and wizards milling about the front. Was that- was that Professor Lupin and Dumbledore? He squinted at the little black and white figures but they walked off to the side and he could no longer make them out. Across the headline read in bold letters,  
  
"THE BOY WHO LIVED"  
  
And in slightly smaller letters underneath,  
  
"Potters Attacked. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Considered Dead."  
  
But, how did Aunt Petunia get this? Surely, she did not subscribe to the Daily Prophet? Dumbledore must have given her this article when he left Harry on the doorstep of Number 4 Privet Drive all those years ago. He decided he would read the article at length later and looked at the next one in his hand. A black and white photo of his dad grinned cheekily up at him; next to the photo read  
  
"James Potter- England's Best Auror or Just Dumb Luck?"  
  
Harry gasped at the caption. So his dad was not only an Auror but also one of the best? He scanned the first line quickly-  
  
James Potter, 21, of Godric's Hollow is quickly becoming one of England's most well known Aurors. Having just finished his Auror training he is already responsible for capturing five Death Eaters within the last six months. He looks to be one of the nations up and coming Aurors, perhaps with talent rivaling that of Alastor Moody himself. However, his quick rise to the top has called many astute witches and wizards to wonder exactly how he's doing it all.  
  
"Personally, I think he's gettin' his friends to dress up as Death Eaters, then lettin' 'em go after everyone knows about the capture. That's what I would do at least," says one Mogdon Menteur of Kent.  
  
Harry snorted and looked to the last newspaper clipping in the box. It was a small article about his parents' wedding. Harry froze, recognising the photo from the album Hagrid gave him in his first year at Hogwarts. It was the same picture of his parents on their wedding day, surrounded by Sirius, Lupin, and Wormtail. He dropped it quickly as if it burned his fingers, that familiar feeling of ice in his stomach as he looked at a much younger, happier Sirius. He turned instead to the photos in the box. They were all of his parents, some with people he recognised- the Marauders and members of the original Order of the Phoenix- and some with people he had never seen before. There were photos of him as a baby with his parents and others of his parents when they were younger. Most of the pictures depicting a young Lily or James were obviously taken at Hogwarts; he even found one of James flying during a Quidditch match. A few were of his mum and dad with adults who had to be his grandparents or some other close relatives and then another Muggle snapshot of his mum and. Aunt Petunia? They were much younger in this photo of course- definitely before his mum would have ever gone to Hogwarts. The two girls were looking up at the camera from what appeared to be an attempt to make cookies but instead had successfully showered the kitchen with flour. Aunt Petunia would never let flour cover her kitchen now, Harry thought in amazement. Funny how much more alike they looked then. Aunt Petunia's hair was more of a strawberry blonde colour, much closer a shade to his mom's rich auburn. Both bright green and pale blue eyes were shining, and Aunt Petunia was not so thin, her cheeks were full and she was grinning at the camera.  
  
Harry sat the photos down and looked back into the box. Lying there, almost at the bottom, were his parents' wedding rings and his mother's engagement ring. With trembling hands, he pulled out the larger, thicker gold band and slipped it onto his own ring finger. He studied it for a minute- it was still a little large for his hand- and with a sigh slipped it off into the box. He noticed there were still letters and a journal at the very bottom of the box but his heart felt very heavy and he could not bear to look at anything else tonight. Harry glanced at his bedside clock and was shocked to see that it was already one o'clock in the morning. Hedwig had still not returned from Hogwarts and he supposed she had decided to stay the night there.  
  
Crawling sleepily into bed he placed his glasses on the bedside table and lay looking up at the ceiling- his brain full to bursting with all the new information he had soaked up tonight. Aunt Petunia gave him a birthday present? His dad was an Auror? And obviously, Aunt Petunia and his mum had gotten along at some point. when did that end? As soon as the family found out that Lily was a witch? These questions and more swirled thickly around his head as he fell into an uneasy sleep. Pictures of his parents, Sirius, and his grandparents were all talking to him, telling him- something. he could not quite make it out. Their faces came in and out of focus, swirling madly, and in the middle of everything was the journal from the bottom of the box, which was glowing bright green. Harry's dreams faded out as he fell into a deeper sleep, and in the morning, he did not remember them at all. 


	2. Birthdays and Beaches

Chapter Two  
Birthdays and Beaches  
  
Despite his eagerness to leave the next day, Harry ended up sleeping late. When he finally did awake, after several loud hoots and one fierce peck from Hedwig, who had apparently arrived earlier that morning, Harry felt drained as if he had not slept all night long. Groaning, Harry dragged himself out of bed and downstairs to the kitchen.  
  
"Just waking up, are you?" snapped Aunt Petunia, standing by the sink. "I suppose they just let you lay around all day at that school of yours?"  
  
Harry grunted; she was acting as if nothing had happened last night. Well, he wasn't going to let her get away with that. "It's Hogwarts. As you know perfectly well, Aunt Petunia."  
  
She glared at him and returned to washing the dishes.  
  
"I saw a picture of you and mum in that box you gave me," he persisted. "You two looked like you were having fun together. you must've gotten along at some point."  
  
"That was before I was old enough to know better. Now NO MORE QUESTIONS!"  
  
Harry sighed, knowing when to quit, and got up to fix himself some breakfast.  
  
~*~  
  
The hours until three o'clock that afternoon had never passed slower. At fifteen minutes until three Harry had finished packing his belongings into his trunk, and dragged it and Hedwig in her cage down to the living room. He placed everything in the middle of the room and sat on the top of his trunk, firmly grasping its handle with one hand and Hedwig's cage with the other, the Portkey located in the front pocket of his jeans. The three Dursleys sat on the sofa in front of him. It was lucky that Aunt Petunia was so bony, otherwise they never would have all fit. They stared at him as if seeing him for the first time and expecting him to break out into boils right in front of their eyes. To avoid having to meet their stares, he thought about what was going to happen next. Harry supposed that the Portkey would take him back to Number 12 Grimmauld Place and he wasn't sure how he felt about that. On one hand, he was dying to know what plans the Order had, on the other, he didn't know if he could face being back to Sirius's house yet. For the first time, he wondered what was going to happen to the house now that Sirius was.dead. Surely, it wouldn't pass on to the next relative. Harry couldn't picture Malfoy's mum living in a place where house elves' heads hung on the walls. He supposed she wouldn't be able to find it anyway, since Dumbledore was Secret-Keeper for the headquarters. He only had a minute to contemplate this before he felt the familiar tugging behind his navel. He looked up and made eye contact with Aunt Petunia, then the living room vanished before him and a swirl of colors filled his vision.  
  
~*~  
  
The first thing Harry realised was that he was lying on a floor (having fallen over his trunk) that felt scratchy under his skin. The second thing Harry noticed was the heat and smell of salt in his nose. He stood up, clutching his head, which still seemed to want to spin.  
  
"HARRY!" a voice squealed somewhere to his right. He looked around and saw eight red heads and one brown one waiting for him to arrive. The girl with the brown hair rushed up and gave him a tight squeeze.  
  
"Hi, Hermione," Harry said warmly, glad to be back among friends. He looked around at the Weasleys- all of them except Percy- and noticed that they all looked very.tan? He glanced at his surroundings for the first time and realised that he was not, in fact, at Grimmauld Place, nor was he at the Burrow. He was standing on a woven straw mat in the middle of a small wooden house. He released Hermione's grip and walked slowly to the nearest window, peering out. What he saw was the last thing in the world that he expected- a large stretch of sand leading to a swollen grey-green ocean. Harry had never been to the coast before, and he found himself staring in disbelief as he turned to face the Weasleys.  
  
"Professor Dumbledore himself told us about this place he uses when he needs to relax," Mr. Weasley said, smiling. Harry remembered how, the summer before fourth year, he had wondered where Dumbledore spent his holiday and had a vision of the professor, applying suntan lotion, stretched out on the beach in full wizarding attire. Harry remembered how, the summer before fourth year, he'd wondered where Dumbledore spent his holiday. He had a vision of the professor stretched out on the beach in full wizarding attire, applying suntan lotion.  
  
"He's been kind enough to let us stay here for three weeks," Mr. Weasley continued. "We've been here one already."  
  
So he was going to get to stay at the coast for two whole weeks? "Excellent!" Harry said, grinning at them all. This was better than anything he could have expected.  
  
"Come on, Harry, let's get your things put up." Mrs. Weasley bustled forward. "Ron! Fred! George! Get Harry's trunk and take it to his room." She gave Harry a fierce hug and beamed at him. Fred and George each grabbed one end of his trunk and Ron grabbed Hedwig's cage, grinning at Harry.  
  
"Let's go, mate, our room's this way."  
  
Harry walked after them once he had greeted everyone else, closely followed by Hermione and Ginny. The beach house turned out to be just one story with four bedrooms. The living room consisted of two enormous couches sitting on opposite sides of the fireplace, separated by a low coffee table. The eating area was just an extension of the living room, with a large picnic table and benches located in the center. A long hallway extended down the middle of the cottage, apparently leading to the bedrooms.  
  
Harry, as it turned out, was to share a room with Ron and the twins. Their room was down the hallway, the last door on the right. Inside were two sets of bunk beds facing each other and a wardrobe on one end, opposite the only window. Ron's owl Pigwidgeon was twittering and zooming in mad circles around the ceiling.  
  
"There ya go, Harry," George said as he and Fred deposited Harry's trunk at the foot of one set of bunk beds. "You get the distinct honour of sharing a room with Fred and me for the next week- we have to leave early to get back to the shop. Of course, that means you'll have to share it with Ron as well, but with a little stink repellant, we think you'll make it."  
  
"Shaddup," Ron said, throwing a pillow at George and flopping down on one of the lower bunks. "Don't mind them; they've gotten rather big heads now that they're gainfully employed."  
  
Harry opened Hedwig's cage and she promptly flew out the open window to stretch her wings. He then turned and sat opposite of Ron on the bed.  
  
"Too right you are, little bro," said George, sitting himself on the floor.  
  
"We didn't hear you complaining when we gave you a month's free of Weasley's Reusable Dungbombs," said Fred, who joined his brother and sprawled out on the rug.  
  
"They come back to you after you've finished throwing them, dead useful," explained George.  
  
"So the joke shop's coming along well then?" asked Harry.  
  
"You bet it is," said Fred. "You'll get to see it when you all go to Diagon Alley before term starts. George and I bought a loft right above the premises so we'll meet you there."  
  
"Cool," said Harry. "So your mum. she wasn't too cheesed off when she found out you'd left school?"  
  
"Well. she wasn't thrilled, but there wasn't much she could do about it, was there? I mean, it was a little late by then, wasn't it? Besides, she'd heard all about that Umbridge woman already," said Fred.  
  
"She tried to act upset but you could tell she was a bit proud- not that she'd admit it to us, mind you. She was right made up, though, when she came to see our premises. Didn't complain a bit when we had the money to buy her some new robes, did she, Fred?" said George.  
  
"Not one bit," agreed Fred. "We promised her a House Elf as soon as we could afford one. A paid one, of course," he added hastily at a sharp look from Hermione, who had situated herself on the opposite bunk with Ginny. Sensing another rant about S.P.E.W., Fred and George jumped up from the floor and made their exit.  
  
"Well, gotta go, wanted to-,"  
  
"-check under the house for some Bundimun-,"  
  
"-for a new idea we had-,"  
  
And with that, they scampered out the door, shutting it behind them.  
  
Harry exchanged an amused look with Ron.  
  
"So," Harry began, sobering up, "what news is there of Voldemort?" he asked, and was a bit surprised when neither Ron, nor Ginny, flinched.  
  
"Honestly, Harry, not much. The Death Eaters have been quiet since the end of term," Hermione said.  
  
"Well, that's good then, right?"  
  
Hermione and Ginny glanced at each other and he felt Ron shift next to him.  
  
"The thing is," Ginny said, her voice lowered to a whisper, "the Order doesn't know what's going on like they did before. I mean, last summer they knew that You-Know- er. Voldemort," she corrected herself, again looking at Hermione who was giving her an encouraging smile. "They knew that V-Voldemort wanted the prophecy and would try to get it by stealth since the Ministry conveniently turned a blind eye. But now, they just don't have a lead. We've been left in the dark. " Her voice trailed off.  
  
"But its not that the Order isn't doing anything," Ron filled in. "They are keeping rather busy. I know Dad has been working closely with Dumbledore to find a way to-um, get rid of the Dementors. Also, they're trying to find security for Azkaban that works just as well as the Dementors did, without the risks."  
  
"Bill is working on relations with the goblins," said Ginny. "They're afraid that Voldemort will try and bribe them over to his side. We just can't afford to lose Gringotts to the Death Eaters. Literally," she finished with a grim smile.  
  
"And Charlie has been back and forth between England and Romania- trying to recruit foreign wizards as well as finding ways of using the dragons. They are considering posting them outside of Azkaban," said Hermione.  
  
"What's going on with Percy?" Harry asked. "Has he come to his senses now that Dumbledore's been proven right?"  
  
Ginny scowled. "Well, Dad says that Percy's forced to talk to him at the Ministry- they're both on some of the same anti-Voldemort planning teams. Says he's polite enough but hasn't apologized. He's being such a prat. It's obvious he's been wrong, but he still won't contact the family. Mum's been very upset. She invited him to come with us and everything, but he never replied to her owl."  
  
"I expect he's too embarrassed to come back asking for forgiveness," said Hermione. "He knows he won't have an easy time of it."  
  
"It's right cowardly if you ask me," Ginny replied. "What's he in Gryffindor for, anyway?"  
  
"We haven't been able to hear as much about the other members, though," said Ron, deftly changing the subject. "Since we haven't gone to Sir- I mean, Grimmauld Place, we've been kind of cut off."  
  
Silence followed this. Harry felt the familiar ice start up in his stomach. He knew Ron was about to say Sirius's house. He avoided their eyes, afraid they would use this as an excuse to talk about Sirius, and he definitely didn't want to do that. He cast glances around the room trying to find an interesting conversation starter.  
  
After a brief moment, Hermione cleared her throat. "There is one other thing, Harry." She looked at Ron and Ginny for support. "We- that is to say, Ron, Ginny, and I- have been talking. And we think we know of something that will give us an edge over the Death Eaters if we have to face them again."  
  
"Oh yeah?" Harry said, sitting up interestedly, thankful that it didn't seem she was going to bring up Sirius after all. What Hermione said was most on his mind of late- how to beat the Death Eaters next time, because he knew there would be a next time, at least for him.  
  
"Well," Hermione began, and Harry thought she looked a little nervous. "We thought that we could try becoming, um, well-Animagi." The word hung over the air as Harry tried to digest this information.  
  
"Are you serious?" Harry whispered. "But that takes ages to learn. It took Sirius and my dad almost three years and they were best in their class. We haven't got that kind of time."  
  
"Well," Hermione said again. "I've been doing a bit of reading," ("Imagine that," Ron muttered under his breath) "since last year, really. and I asked some well placed questions to Professor Lupin last holiday. and he gave me some really good information- of what he could remember Sirius and your dad doing- he was a little suspicious, naturally, but what could he say? He was a party to it himself when he was our age-."  
  
"Hermione, you're rambling," Ron interjected.  
  
"Hmph. My point is, Harry," she said, more briskly this time, "is that I think I know how to do it now, it will just take some time to work the spells and practise technique. So, what do you say, Harry? Are you in?"  
  
"Are you crazy? Of course I'm in!" he exclaimed. "I think it's a great idea. And if you've really figured it out-,"  
  
"Oh, I have," she said, grinning back at him. "So, it's settled then?"  
  
"Definitely.hey, where's Crookshanks?" he asked, just realising he hadn't seen Hermione's bandy legged, ginger cat.  
  
"He's outside, I expect," Hermione said. "He's been trying to catch a crab all week. It will be a pity if he does, though."  
  
Conversation then turned to events earlier in their vacation. Harry was able to sit back and relax, letting their words wash over him. He even laughed with the others at Ginny's recounting of Fred and George charming the fish that Bill and Charlie had spent all day catching.  
  
"Every time Mum went to fry them they would lift up their heads and start singing," Ginny said, giggling madly. "And what's worse, they didn't quit even when they were cooked. Do you know how hard it is to bite into a fish that's performing its rendition of Singing in the Rain?"  
  
~*~  
  
They talked for another hour until Mrs. Weasley called them for dinner. Harry stopped in his tracks as the dinner table came into view. The table was covered in all his favourite foods- steak and kidney pie, roast potatoes, breads, pumpkin juice, treacle tart- and in the very center was a large, towering birthday cake that read, "Happy Birthday, Harry!" Glancing up, he saw balloons and streamers everywhere- all flashing different colors. He looked back at the sea of smiling faces.  
  
"Wow," he breathed. "Thanks!"  
  
"It was no problem, Harry dear," Mrs. Weasley said, ushering them around the table. "We don't expect that you've had very many birthday parties before."  
  
"None, actually," Harry admitted truthfully, taking a seat in between Ron and Charlie.  
  
"Hermione tells me you've been trying to train dragons to guard Azkaban," Harry said to Charlie, who was digging into the pie.  
  
"Trying is the key word," Charlie replied, pulling a face. "The problem is that they just go after everyone- prisoner or not. That's the reason for this latest burn." He rolled up his shirtsleeve proudly, showing Harry a patch of raw, pink skin in its first stages of healing, above his right elbow. "Hurt like a-,"  
  
"Charlie! Don't they have MediWizards for that kind of thing?" his mother asked, concern written over her face. "I can't believe they would let you go out there and face those beasts- risking your life, I might add- without proper protection and-,"  
  
"Mum, don't be silly. This was healed by a MediWizard!"  
  
Harry grinned and returned to heaping potatoes onto his own plate, listening to snatches of conversation around the table.  
  
"Fred, George, I don't want to hear another word about it. Your mother is in a right state already with Bill and Charlie in the Order," Mr. Weasley was saying quietly down at the other end of the table. "There really isn't a reason for you two to join. yet," he added as an afterthought, nervously glancing sidelong down the table.  
  
"I'm telling you, Ginny," said Bill from the left of Charlie. "I think you'd do really well working for Gringotts. Ron was telling me you've gotten along really far with your cursing-er-charming ability. That's one of the main qualities the goblins look for in a treasure-seeker. Most people who can curse well can break them even better. So be sure you do well in your Arithmancy O.W.L. this year."  
  
"Now, Bill, don't go putting any dangerous ideas into her head," Mrs. Weasley cut in, breaking off from the conversation she was having with Hermione about types of magical knitting. "Ginny's going to be a MediWitch, aren't you, dear?"  
  
"We'll see, Mum," Ginny replied from where she was sitting across from Harry. She took a large swig of pumpkin juice to hide her smile.  
  
~*~  
  
After dinner, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, and the twins trooped down the hall, back to the boys' room where Harry could open his presents. Ron and Hermione pulled out several packages from the closet and from under the beds. Hedwig was waiting for him on one of the top bunks, a brown package tied to her leg.  
  
"It's from Hagrid," Harry exclaimed, recognizing the scribble on the attached note. He removed the parcel from Hedwig's leg, smoothing her feathers affectionately. "Fly on down the hall to the kitchen," he said to Hedwig. "Mrs. Weasley will give you some food."  
  
Hedwig pecked him gently on the hand and flew swiftly out the door. Harry sat on the lower bunk, tore open the brown paper, and found a stack of thick, creamy parchment and an emerald coloured quill. Harry opened up the note and read:  
  
Harry, I got this from Professor Dumbledore himself. If you use this quill an' parchment together, only the person you send it to will be able to read it. Cheers, Hagrid.  
  
"Cool," Harry said, and set it on the bed next to him.  
  
"Here, open the rest, Harry," Hermione said, pushing the pile towards him and curling up in her previous spot on the opposite bunk.  
  
"Wow, you guys didn't have to get me all of this-," Harry started to say.  
  
"Come off it, what kind of friends do you think we are?" Ron said, sitting on the floor and stretching out his long legs.  
  
Harry reached down and grabbed the closest present to him, which was enormous and oddly lumpy. He removed the paper and exclaimed, "Wow, this is brilliant," turning to Fred and George. Harry was holding at least a hundred Galleons' worth of Weasleys' Wildfire Whiz-Bangs.  
  
George grinned at him. "Why, anything for our benefactor. If it wasn't for you, we'd still be exploding things in Mum's attic."  
  
"Yeah, and we thought we'd have a bit of fun shooting them off tonight," said Fred.  
  
Harry unwrapped the rest of his presents quickly, so that they could go on out and let off some fireworks. He got a Quidditch strategy manual from Ron, an enormous bag of candy from Hermione (including, of course, tooth- flossing string mints), and a large book from Ginny entitled An Advanced Guide to Defense Against Dark Arts for Those Mad Enough to Get Involved.  
  
"Excellent, Ginny," Harry said. "I've needed another Dark Arts defense book. I've been through all of ours from school and the ones that.that I got for Christmas last year."  
  
"How'd you know Harry needed a new Defense book?" George said, looking curiously at Ginny.  
  
"Harry, what do you mean you've already made your way through all those books?" Hermione asked shrewdly, cutting off George.  
  
"Well, I had to keep myself occupied while I was at the Dursleys, didn't I? I couldn't just sit around and do nothing, especially since the Dursleys were too scared of Mad-Eye's retaliation to put me to work in the yard. So I just, well, took to learning all the defense spells," Harry replied.  
  
"But- you read all of our Defense books plus the two from Siri- Christmas?" Ron repeated. "That's about thirteen books, if you count the rubbish Lockhart made us buy, in less than five weeks?  
  
"So you can count, can you?" Harry said sardonically and Ginny snorted with laughter. "Besides, reading thirteen books is nothing, is it, Hermione?"  
  
"I don't know Harry; I just don't want to see you get obsessed. Leave it to Dumbledore and the Order, that's their purpose. No one expects you to take on Voldemort single handedly. Yes, Voldemort, Ron. Ginny says his name, why can't you?"  
  
Harry tuned out Ron's scathing reply as he fiddled with loose string on the comforter, which he found suddenly intriguing. The feeling of being separate from everyone else returned. He still had not told his friends about the prophecy. He just couldn't handle the look on their faces that he knew would appear when they found out that he, Harry, would be the one that had to face down Voldemort in the end. That the safety of their lives and their families' lives lay in his hands alone. He tried to push down the overwhelming feeling of anxiety that was creeping up in his chest and was relieved when Fred provided a distraction, which was also successful in breaking up Ron and Hermione's bickering.  
  
"Let's go on and try these out before it gets too late, shall we?" Fred said, standing up from where he and George were sitting against the wardrobe.  
  
Harry gave Fred a grateful smile as he stood to join them, missing Ginny's eyes boring into the back of his head.  
  
They walked back out to the living area where Bill, Charlie, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were sitting on the couches deep in conversation.  
  
"We're about to try out Fred and George's fireworks, do you want to come?" asked Ginny.  
  
The others stopped talking when they walked in. Harry was surprised to realize how tired Mr. Weasley looked, and he couldn't believe he didn't notice before. His hair looked a little greyer and there were dark circles under his eyes. Both he and Mrs. Weasley looked significantly thinner.  
  
"Ah, no, thank you, Ginny. I think Molly and I will just go on to bed, it's been a long day." He sighed. "You kids have fun, though."  
  
"And stay out of trouble!" Mrs. Weasley warned.  
  
After saying goodnight to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, the eight of them went on out the door onto a wooden deck with a long, matching walkway leading to the sand. Harry put a hand on Ginny's arm to hold her back as the rest walked by.  
  
"What is it?" she said in a hushed voice.  
  
"What's going on with your dad?" Harry asked. "He looks really beat."  
  
"It's his job at the Ministry," she replied, looking worried. "Now that everyone believes that V-Voldemort has returned, they're all keen to listen to what Dumbledore has to say. Dumbledore is using this as an opportunity to plant members of the Order who work in the Ministry in all the high level planning against Voldemort. Dad's the most senior Ministry worker in the Order, so Fudge, through Dumbledore's advice, has placed him in several committees. He's even heading one or two. On top of that, he's still completing his duties in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office. Also, everyone knows Dad is close friends with Dumbledore, so he gets at least ten owls a day asking his opinion."  
  
"Why don't they just ask Dumbledore himself?'  
  
"He's been keeping out of the spotlight. Mum says he's been devoting all of his time to making plans with the Order- she doesn't even think he sleeps at night."  
  
"Why is he making plans with the Order and not with the Ministry? I wouldn't have thought that the Order would need to be so secretive now that Voldemort has come out into the open."  
  
"Well, they're not letting Fudge or the Ministry know about the Order, are they? Not officially, anyway. I mean, everyone knows that Dad, Lupin, Mad-Eye, and the rest have always supported Dumbledore, but the Ministry doesn't know that they have an organised group. If the Ministry knew about the Order, they'd want a representative and we just can't have that. Dad's sure there are Voldemort supporters still spying in the Ministry and they want to make sure that the Order is not infiltrated as well."  
  
Harry thought about Wormtail, but said nothing.  
  
"How do you know about all this anyway?" he asked, curiously.  
  
Ginny gave him a mischievous grin. "Well-,"  
  
"Hey, what's the hold up? Are you two slowpokes coming or not?" Ron bellowed from the shoreline.  
  
Harry was taken aback to see how far behind the rest of the group they were, so he and Ginny ran to catch up. By the time they reached the water's edge, the twins had already unwrapped most of the fireworks and laid them out on the sand. Ginny joined Hermione, who was sitting in the sand a few feet away, propped up on her elbows.  
  
"Watch this, Harry," Fred said as Harry joined the rest of the guys. "We made it just for you, mate. Hold it for me while I light it, will you, Charlie? You're used to arm burns." He handed Charlie an enormous firework that Harry thought must have been as thick as one of Hagrid's legs.  
  
"Good Lord, Fred- George, what is this?" Charlie asked warily, holding the firework as far away from his head as possible.  
  
"You'll see," George said. "We call it Ode to the Hero Who Conquered the Dark Lord."  
  
Ron and Bill sniggered, but Harry was reminded of something.  
  
"Wait a minute, you two didn't have anything to do with that singing Valentine I got in my second year, did you?" he asked them  
  
Fred and George gave him identical grins.  
  
"You didn't think Ginny was so daft as to do that, did you?" Fred asked.  
  
"We never dreamed we'd be lucky enough that she would walk by exactly when that jumped up dwarf read it out to you," George added.  
  
"Lets get on with it then," Harry said hurriedly, glancing at Ginny who, thankfully, was deep in conversation with Hermione and had not heard. He was enjoying being able to have a conversation with Ginny without her blushing all over the place and didn't want her to start again.  
  
Without hesitation, Fred leaned over and lit the firecracker's fuse with the tip of his wand. With a shrill squeal, the rocket jerked out of Charlie's hands and took off into the air where it exploded above their heads. Hermione and Ginny 'oohed' and 'ahhed' as the firecracker exploded into a million white lights. Then their voices turned to laughter mingled with the boys' as a comical-looking Harry made of twinkling lights dueled with an even sillier looking wizard in a green cloak-presumably Voldemort. The wizard in the green cloak kept tripping over his hem and the form of Harry brandished his wand. With a loud 'pop,' the wizard turned into a green toad and the vision of Harry stamped on it, the twinkling lights dissipating and falling around Harry, Hermione, and the Weasleys all sitting on the sand.  
  
"That really was excellent!" Hermione exclaimed. "Even better than what we saw at Hogwarts."  
  
"Let's see the rest, shall we?" said Bill, as he and Charlie dug through the pile like schoolchildren, this being the first time they'd been able to see the fireworks. They spent the next few hours taking turns holding and lighting the fireworks, even Hermione and Ginny; Catherine wheels, sparklers, and rockets all exploding in bursts of color around them.  
  
~*~  
  
It was approaching midnight before they dragged themselves back to the cottage, but Harry did not yet feel like sleeping. He grabbed his new Defense book and walked back to the living room, planning to read a few chapters.  
  
Ron looked at him quizzically. "Aren't you heading for bed, mate?"  
  
Harry shook his head and tried to force a grin. "Nah, I, er, I'm a little wound up. I think I'm going to read a little first. I won't be long, really." Ron looked at him doubtfully but went on back to the bedrooms with everyone else.  
  
Harry sighed and settled himself on one of the two worn couches in the living room, thankful that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had left a small fire burning in the hearth across from him, because the room had become quite chilly from the evening air. Harry grabbed an afghan folded neatly on the back of the couch and wrapped himself up in it. He hadn't lied to Ron, not really. He was still a little wound up from the day, though he could feel traces of sleepiness weighing his eyes down. However, the truth of it was that unless he stayed up until the point of exhaustion, the nightmares would come. He'd had nightmares of Sirius and the Department of Mysteries, nightmares of Voldemort possessing him, and even nightmares of Voldemort killing off his closest friends-all of their faces staring accusingly at him. "Why didn't you save us, Harry?" they demanded, over and over again until he would wake up, drenched in sweat and shaking. Shuddering, Harry tried to push these images out of his mind and opened up the book Ginny gave him.  
  
He was halfway through the first chapter, staving off sleep and muttering definitions to himself, when he heard soft footsteps come down the hall. He looked up in surprise to see Ginny standing hesitantly in the doorway, in her pajamas, something hidden in her hand.  
  
"What's up?" Harry asked curiously.  
  
She gave him a small smile and sat next to him. "I have another present for you, one that I didn't want to give in front of the others." After saying that she held up what she was hiding in her palm. It was a shimmering blue stone, worn smooth, and hanging from a thin silver chain.  
  
Harry looked at it blankly. "Er, thanks. It's, um, pretty."  
  
Ginny snorted, giving him an exasperated look. "It's a moonstone. If you wear it at night it will give you dreamless sleep."  
  
Harry had told her about the nightmares through their correspondence over the summer but he had never expected. "Ginny, this is too much," he said weakly. "These are supposed to be really expensive. You shouldn't have paid-,"  
  
"I didn't. Mum gave it to me after my first year when I was having nightmares. Mind you, it is a bit of an heirloom so don't go losing it or anything."  
  
"Ginny, are you sure?"  
  
"Of course I'm sure. I wouldn't have given it to you if I weren't. I don't need it anymore and I'm sure Mum wouldn't mind. You're practically family anyway."  
  
"But-," he started to say.  
  
"Honestly, Harry, are you always this noble?" Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "If it makes you feel better, you can return it when you don't need it anymore. Even if it's ten years down the road. Nevertheless, right now it's mine to give and I want you to have it. Okay?"  
  
Harry smiled at her. "Okay then. Thanks." He slipped the chain over his head and looked up at her. He got a funny feeling in his stomach suddenly, noticing how the fire glinted off her hair, making it shine. She interrupted his thoughts before he could figure it out, though.  
  
"Don't go getting all sappy on me now, Potter," she said, bringing him back to reality.  
  
"I- what?" Harry said stupidly; she had caught him off guard.  
  
"You were looking at me like I've seen Ron looking at Hermione," she continued, as if explaining something to a child.  
  
Harry blushed, and hoped it didn't show in the firelight. "How does Ron look at Hermione?" he asked, grateful to talk about someone else.  
  
"You mean you hadn't noticed? You're supposed to be his best friend. Hermione was right- you and Ron are hopeless. He completely moons over her when she's not looking. Fred and George even caught him primping in the mirror before Hermione arrived here. Ron had to promise to hang up advertisements for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes all over school before he could get them to shut up about it." Ginny got tickled reliving it for him and had to stifle her giggles with her hands.  
  
Had Harry noticed? He supposed he wasn't that surprised at the news and remembered back to the Yule Ball when they'd had that huge row. Harry got a sudden mental image of Ron fixing himself before a mirror, waiting to impress Hermione, and the look on his face when the twins took the mickey out of him for it. He soon found himself laughing alongside of Ginny.  
  
"Well," he said, once his laughter had died down, "Ron's lucky that the twins will be gone this year if he's going to try to start something with Hermione." He tried to keep his voice light while pushing an image of his two best friends snogging out of his head. He definitely did not want to think about that part of it. "Although, things will be boring without them around."  
  
"Now that you mention it, I've wanted to talk to you about that," Ginny said.  
  
"What do you mean?" Harry asked.  
  
"Well." she said slowly. "I've been thinking. It's a shame Fred and George won't be around to lighten things up a bit- what with Voldemort back and all. But really, they're not the only ones who can pull a few pranks, you know? I mean, why should the whole school suffer from boredom just because they've left? It's certainly no reason for things to be dreadfully dull," she said in a more serious tone, though her eyes were still twinkling. "You've got an Invisibility Cloak, haven't you?" She finished in a would-be casual voice.  
  
"What? Are you saying you want me to fill Fred and George's shoes?" Harry thought that was a rather tall order.  
  
"Of course not, I'm talking about us."  
  
"Us? What about Ron and Hermione then?"  
  
"Well, they're prefects, aren't they? They can't just go roaming around playing pranks, not that Hermione would anyway. Besides, I have a feeling they're going to want a lot more alone time this year."  
  
Harry tried to ignore this last statement and the growing sense of apprehension it produced. "Wait, aren't you a prefect? I thought for sure you would be."  
  
Ginny flushed. "Er. no. Best not to bring it up in front of Mum though, she was pretty jarred off. She accused me of following in Fred and George's footsteps. Quite ironic, really, seeing as she's the one who started me thinking about it."  
  
"Well, what do you have in mind, then?" Harry asked curiously.  
  
As she started telling him some of her ideas, a slow grin spread over his face. It would make the year a lot more interesting. Moreover, it would give him something to occupy his time, if Ginny was right and Ron and Hermione were going to be closer this year. It depressed him to think of passing each night in the common room as a third wheel.  
  
Finally, Ginny yawned and said she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. Harry agreed and plodded behind her to the room he was sharing with Ron and the twins. He hadn't got much reading done, however; he would make up for it tomorrow night. Harry climbed carefully onto the top bunk, trying not to wake Ron, but found sleep harder to come by than he thought. Something of what Ginny said was worrying him and he kept playing it over in his head, 'I have a feeling they're going to want a lot more alone time this year.' If that was the case, was he, Harry, going to be left out? He tried to imagine the three of them doing things as normal if Ron and Hermione did start dating. He should be happy for them; it sounded like Ron was a lot nearer to acting on his feelings. Even though they had never talked about it, Harry had always known deep inside that Ron fancied Hermione. Otherwise, why would he be so jealous of Krum? Still, Harry couldn't help but feeling he would never be ready for them to partner off when the time came. Was he fated to be alone forever? Who would want someone destined to be a murderer anyway? Did he even deserve a girlfriend knowing he would probably endanger her? Harry mulled these thoughts over in his head until finally he fell into a peaceful sleep- for the first time in months. 


	3. Skeletons Revealed

Chapter Three  
Skeletons Revealed  
  
Harry awoke the next morning feeling better than he had in over a year. It had been so long since he'd gone without a nightmare that he had quite forgotten what it was like. He stretched and crawled down from the top bunk, noticing that Ron and the twins were already awake and apparently in the other room. He got dressed quickly, throwing on a pair of old Muggle jeans and a tee-shirt. As he opened the door, scents of breakfast wafted down the hall. Reaching the kitchen, he found the Weasleys and Hermione already sitting at the table and eating.  
  
"Good morning, Harry," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "We would've waited, but we didn't know how long you'd sleep, and we didn't want to disturb you."  
  
"No problem, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "Everything looks great." He sat down at the end of the table between Ron and Mr. Weasley, scooping mounds of scrambled eggs onto his plate and grabbing several pieces of buttered toast.  
  
"Good morning, Harry." Ginny smiled at him. "Did you sleep well?"  
  
"Very well, thanks," he said between bites of toast, giving her a tiny smile in return.  
  
"No kidding, you did. I'm surprised you didn't wake the rest of us with all that snoring," Ron said loudly. "Say, what do you think about having a go on our brooms after breakfast?"  
  
"Are we allowed to fly here?" Harry asked.  
  
"Yeah, there's not another house for miles. We just have to be careful to stay close to ours."  
  
Harry was elated. He was eager to see the coast closer in broad daylight, having only been down to the water after dark last night. Besides, what better way to take in the shore than flying above it on a broom? He hadn't been able to fly on his Firebolt since Umbridge took it from him last term. Wait. Umbridge- oh no! He never got his broom back from where she had hidden it in the dungeons last year. He would have to wait until term started again before he could get his broom.  
  
Mr. Weasley must have read the suddenly worried expression on Harry's face, and smiled at him. "Harry, Dumbledore sent your broom over to us before you even arrived. I'm sure he guessed you'd like to do a bit of flying. That man does think of everything."  
  
~*~  
  
After breakfast, the six Weasleys and Harry gathered their brooms and prepared to walk down to the beach.  
  
"Hermione, what are you going to do while we're flying?" Ron asked, turning to her.  
  
"She's going to use your old broom, Ron," Ginny replied, returning from the back of the house carrying a broom in each hand. "I had Mum bring it just in case."  
  
"But don't you think that's a little dangerous? I mean, Hermione, you don't have much practise at flying, do you?"  
  
"Ron, just because I don't play Quidditch doesn't mean I don't know how to fly a broom. We did have lessons first year, after all," Hermione said. Then, as an afterthought, "Thank you for your concern though."  
  
"Er, right," Ron said, looking embarrassed.  
  
"Awww, is ickle Ronniekins worried about his poor wittle Hermione getting hurt?" Fred said in a baby voice. Bill, Charlie, and George laughed loudly at this, causing Ron's face to turn as red as his hair.  
  
"So, um, do you want to divide into teams or are we just flying around?" Harry asked hastily, before this went any further. Ron threw him a grateful look.  
  
"Teams, definitely," said Bill. "Harry- you, Ginny, Ron, and George can be on one team. Hermione, Charlie, Fred, and I will be on the other."  
  
And so they played all morning. They didn't dare let the Snitch out in such a large area devoid of the invisible barrier that usually surrounded the Quidditch pitch, so Harry played Chaser along with Ginny, Bill, and Hermione. Ron and Charlie were Keepers, and Fred and George were each team's Beater. They used the cottage for a reference as the length of their "pitch" since they had no goal to actually aim at. All the Chasers had to do was get the Quaffle past the Keeper's end of the house. Ginny showed herself to be quite a decent Chaser, and Harry thought she would have no trouble making the team in fall tryouts. Hermione wasn't so bad either, and actually managed to get the Quaffle past Ron once, much to his dismay. Ron did well though; he had gained the confidence that he needed from last year's match against Ravenclaw.  
  
"Ron!" Fred exclaimed, after Ron stopped several of Bill's shots. "When did you get good?"  
  
The view of the ocean was breathtaking. In all of his sixteen years, Harry would have never believed how vast it was. From up in the air on his broom, Harry could see nothing but the deep blue water for miles and miles. He loved the smell of salt in the air as it whipped his hair around, and the feel of the sun as it beat down upon his shoulders and back. It was hard to believe that something as evil as Voldemort could exist in a world that was so beautiful. As the game continued, Harry tried to push thoughts of Voldemort out of his head and focused on getting the Quaffle instead. They only stopped playing when Mrs. Weasley called them for lunch, the score practically tied. Harry's stomach growled loudly, and he hadn't realised until then how hungry he was. Once back in the house, they found Mrs. Weasley already setting the table.  
  
"Where's Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked, after looking around and not seeing him anywhere.  
  
"He had to go to the office for a little while, Harry dear. It's been so busy there lately." She sighed and her voice trailed off. "Now, don't worry yourself about that. Go on, sit down and eat. I expect you're starving after all that flying." She smiled warmly at him, but Harry thought it looked a little strained.  
  
After a filling lunch of thick roast beef sandwiches and vegetables left over from the night before, they went back into their rooms to change into swimsuits before taking a dip in the ocean. Hermione and Ginny emerged from their room looking pretty in sundresses and announced that they were going to take a walk instead of swimming.  
  
"Do you girls mind if I come? I do love a nice walk on the beach," Mrs. Weasley asked.  
  
"Mum, don't be silly. Why should we mind?" Ginny said.  
  
"Okay then, boys- be careful, and don't stray out of sight of the house," Mrs. Weasley said sternly. "Oh, how I do wish Arthur was here." she muttered to herself, following Hermione and Ginny out the door. Harry suspected she was walking with them more out of protection than for her love of walks. He followed Ron back down to the beach where the others were already splashing in the water.  
  
"It's loads of fun once you get used to it," Ron explained, seeing Harry hesitate at the water's edge. "It's pretty shallow a good ways out, you don't have to know how to swim- just let the water pick you up and set you down. See?" Harry watched as Charlie rose with the swell of a wave and was then left standing as it passed him by.  
  
Harry walked cautiously a few feet in, and he was surprised at how warm the water was. "Ron? I thought the ocean was supposed to be cold."  
  
Ron grinned lopsidedly at him, "Well, it is. normally. Bill and Charlie just warmed it up a bit. The charm will wear off pretty quickly, but by then you're so wet you don't even notice."  
  
Harry followed Ron slowly out to where the twins, Bill, and Charlie were, getting used to the rise and fall of the waves. Ron was right, they had walked out several yards and Harry could still feel the ocean's gritty floor beneath his feet. He was reminded, briefly, of the second task of the Triwizard Tournament, and he wished he had a bit of gillyweed now. Something fluttered past his ankles and Harry imagined there were loads of interesting things living beneath the surface of this water. They spent the next hour jumping into waves and riding them to shore. By the time the girls and Mrs. Weasley returned, Harry was splashing around as if he had been coming to the beach every year. After tiring of the water, they all went back up to the house and showered, spending the remaining hours until dinner alternating between games of Exploding Snap and wizard's chess (Ron beating everyone at least once).  
  
~*~  
  
It wasn't until after dinner that Mr. Weasley returned to the cottage. Everyone had settled in the living area; Ginny and Hermione curled up on one end of a couch speaking in low tones, while Mrs. Weasley sat at the other end, knitting needles flying in her lap. Harry, Bill, and Charlie had situated themselves on the opposite couch; Harry was tuning out Bill and Charlie's conversation regarding ways of magical protection while reading his new Defense book. Fred and George had decided to take on Ron at chess together, and the three of them were sitting cross-legged in front of the low table between the two couches. Harry had just begun reading about magical shields when a loud "pop" sounded from the eating area.  
  
"Arthur!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "I'm so glad you're finally home. Let me heat you some dinner."  
  
"That would be lovely, Molly dear. It has been a long day." He sighed and pulled up an old rocker in the corner to sit between the couches.  
  
"What's going on Dad? Any news?" Bill asked.  
  
"No. No news at all, I'm afraid. Just more meetings and conferences. One would think the Ministry was planning to talk Voldemort to death. Fudge insists on arguing every point with us."  
  
"Why would he do that when he's supposed to be on our side?" Ron asked.  
  
"He has some mad idea that we can settle things peacefully. He wants to bargain with the Death Eaters in attempt to get them to leave Voldemort and join our side- if you can imagine. Negotiation is an insult to the memories of everyone who has died on Voldemort's account. Fudge is a bloody old fool."  
  
"Arthur, really, such language," Mrs. Weasley said, handing him a warmed plate of food leftover from their dinner.  
  
"Well, it's the truth Molly. He'd be the death of us all if it weren't for Dumbledore. I don't know what we'd do without him."  
  
"What about- ," George started to ask, but was stopped by Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"George, let your father eat, won't you? It's enough that he has to talk about You-Know-Who all day at work without coming home to rehash it with you lot. I wish you would quit worrying about it, for heaven's sake! I would like for at least some of my children to have a normal childhood."  
  
"Mum, we're hardly children," Fred said, but halfheartedly, and no one attempted to bring the subject up again.  
  
~*~  
  
Harry spent the rest of the evening reading and memorising spells and tactics in his book. He was half of the way through, and he thought to himself that he would probably need to pick up some more books in Diagon Alley before school- maybe some on pure tactics and battle strategy. He would have to be prepared on all accounts when he faced Voldemort. Harry sighed and looked back down at the page, trying to focus, but the words kept blurring. His eyes were weary, and he wished everyone would go on up to bed so that he could give up reading for now and practise wand movements. He definitely wasn't going to do it with everyone in the room; he doubted seriously that Mrs. Weasley would be comforted knowing that he was preparing for battle during her family's holiday.  
  
It seemed to take ages but finally it was just himself, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny left in the room. He figured they would be going to bed any moment now- they had, after all, been up earlier than he had today. Silence held in the living room and Harry noticed that he had quit reading, and was just staring at the words on the page, listening to the tick-tock of the mantle clock. He abruptly realised that it was too quiet in the room-he could no longer hear the murmur of Ginny and Hermione's conversation or the whispering of pages as Ron flipped through the latest edition of Which Broomstick, still sitting on the floor. He looked up from his book to find all three of them staring at him.  
  
"What?" he asked, bewildered.  
  
"What do you think- what?" Ron countered, his blue eyes ablaze. "We know you're keeping something from us, Harry. You've barely talked to us since you've arrived- since Sirius died, really- ,"  
  
"What are you on about? Of course I've talked to you, or haven't you been listening?" Harry retorted, offended.  
  
"I think what Ron means, Harry, is that you haven't exactly opened up to us about how you're coping- how you're feeling- since everything happened," Hermione said quietly. She was curling and uncurling a strand of thick brown hair around one finger, eyes wide and serious. "After Cedric died you were quiet like this, Harry, but eventually you did talk to us about it. However, now it's been all summer and you haven't said a word, and you're different. You seem, well, a little obsessed about learning to fight the Dark Arts." Her voice trailed off at Harry's glare.  
  
"Did it occur to you that maybe I don't want to tell you every little thought in my brain?" Harry snapped. "I'm not eleven anymore. I've got along quite well without a mother to cry on so far and I don't need one starting now." Their attack irritated him- what did they know about anything anyway- none of them had ever had someone die because of something they did. He looked icily at the three of them sitting across the room.  
  
"I- we're not trying to be your mother," Ron said, his ears glowing red. "We're trying to be your friends, if you'll let us. And that's what friends do- they help each other. If you would just talk- ,"  
  
Harry sighed, suddenly sad. "I have talked about Sirius, Ron. I just don't want to talk about it again, at least not right now."  
  
"Who have you talked about it with? Lupin? 'Cause it certainly hasn't been me or Hermione- ,"  
  
"Me, Ron," Ginny said, standing to move and sit by Harry on the couch. "He confided to me about it. All right? Can we just talk about something else?" Ginny said, meeting Harry's eye. He felt warm understanding flow from her and he felt bad for his coldness moments earlier. He knew that she had faced the same barrage of questions after she had been down in the Chamber, no one wanting to believe that she really did want to handle it on her own.  
  
"You? What do you mean?" Ron asked.  
  
"Yes, me. Really, Ron, you're not the only one who knows how to use owl post."  
  
"What concerns me more," Hermione interrupted, "is why you've apparently read every Defense Against the Dark Arts book you can get your hands on. You're acting as if you'll be facing Voldemort any day now. Most people think that Dumbledore will be the one to defeat him, but you're acting as if, well, as if it were going to be you. Why is that?"  
  
She said this as if she already knew the answer and Harry felt himself squirm under her unblinking gaze. He didn't know whether to feel exasperated or proud at her infallible logic that allowed her to figure out. well, just about everything.  
  
"What did you and Dumbledore talk about so long in his office after that night?" Ron asked. "I overheard one of the portraits saying that you trashed Dumbledore's office. You can't make me believe that he didn't tell you something important."  
  
Harry swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. This was the question he had hoped to avoid. He sat there for a moment, staring unseeingly at the fire, trying to think of a way out of answering Ron. A part of him wanted to scream that it was none of their business and to leave him alone. But.this was Ron asking. And Hermione. And Ginny. He looked up at their faces, seeing the concern written there, and he knew he was going to have to tell them the truth about Trelawney's prediction. He just had no idea how to break it to them that he, their best friend, was destined to be a murderer.  
  
"Did you really not hear that prophesy, Harry?" Hermione asked bluntly.  
  
The acuteness of her question surprised him so much that he jumped. "What makes you ask that?" he said cautiously, looking up to meet her eyes.  
  
She shrugged, "Well, once we got back to Hogwarts from the Ministry, and I had time to think things over, I remembered that the label on the glass ball said S.P.T. to A.P.W.B.D. I had a suspicion that the second set of initials belonged to Dumbledore. Then, I remembered that the directory of registered Animagi had everyone's full name listed. I went back to the library and, sure enough, registered there was one Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. It took me a bit longer to work out the first name on the label. I went through the names of all the people I knew with the initial of S.T. and came up with Sibyll Trelawney. Then it all clicked. Of course that's why Dumbledore keeps her here. He has to know she's a big fraud- well, not technically, I suppose- but he kept her at Hogwarts because she spoke that prophesy to him. I guess he hoped that she would have more."  
  
"Well, she did, didn't she?" Ron said excitedly. "Remember what happened during your Divination exam third year, Harry? She said something about Voldemort's biggest supporter returning?"  
  
"How could I forget?" Harry said dryly. "That was the night Wormtail escaped to join him." At this, Ginny looked around at them, confused. "I'll explain later," Harry said to her, and she nodded. "Anyway, you're mostly right as usual, Hermione. She did tell the prophesy to Dumbledore. However, he keeps her here for her own protection, even though she's probably not aware of that. That's why he wouldn't let Umbridge kick her out of the castle last year. One of Voldemort's supporters heard part of the prophesy and knew who said it. If Dumbledore hadn't taken her in, they would have probably tortured her for the second half. It's because of that prophesy that Voldemort tried to kill me when I was a baby." He paused there and took a deep breath, not wanting to continue.  
  
"So, Dumbledore told you it, then? In his office, when you got back to Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Yes. " Harry said slowly, stalling. "It- it said. well, have you got a quill and parchment in your backpack, Hermione?" he asked suddenly, spotting it in a corner of the room. He didn't know why, but he felt instinctively that it was best not to say the words aloud.  
  
"Oh! Yes, of course," she said breathlessly, seeming to understand, and jumped up to retrieve it.  
  
When she handed the supplies to him, he stared at the parchment, trying to form the words precisely in his head. Then he scribbled,  
  
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches  
  
Born to those who have thrice defied him, Born as the seventh month dies  
  
And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal,  
  
But he will have power the Dark Lord knows not  
  
And either must die at the hand of the other  
  
For neither can live while the other survives  
  
The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the  
seventh month dies.  
  
After writing this, and scanning it to make sure he wrote everything correctly, Harry offered it with a shaking hand to Ginny. Ginny read it quickly, her face noticeably paler, before passing it to Ron, who had joined Hermione on the couch. Ron handed it to Hermione after reading it himself. Hermione took the longest; she appeared to be memorising it to herself, rereading it several times with her lips moving as if attempting to etch it in her brain. No one said a word while waiting for her to finish. The air around them was so tense Harry felt he could scarcely breathe. This was it. They knew now- they knew what horrible destiny awaited him. His chest felt tight, and he tried to prepare himself for their reactions. Hermione stood up briskly, apparently finished, but instead of giving the parchment over to Harry, she strode to the fireplace and thrust it in the flames. She stood, her back to them, and her hands clenched at her side as she waited until the parchment was dust. When she turned back to them her face was grim and her mouth was set in a straight line.  
  
"None of us are to speak those words out loud. You were smart, Harry, to write it down. No one else can ever know that we've read those lines."  
  
Harry felt a surge of guilt as he realised the repercussion hinted in her words. He had put them all in danger. If Voldemort ever found out they knew the whole of the prophesy.  
  
"Harry," Hermione continued gently, walking to sit back down next to Ron. "We knew Voldemort was after that prophesy, and we wanted to hear it, okay? If you will just tell us what Dumbledore told you about it?" He nodded numbly, and Ginny patted him on the leg.  
  
By the time he had finished filling them in, almost thirty minutes had passed. He left out nothing. He explained it was chance that Voldemort picked him- how it could've been Neville. He told them Voldemort had only heard the first lines of the prophesy and had not realised that his plan to kill Harry would backfire. He even explained how Dumbledore had come to hear the prophesy from Professor Trelawney at the Hog's Head. Once he started talking, he felt as if he couldn't stop until it was all out- and to his surprise he felt better- it was as if the pressure around his heart that had been there since June was finally letting up. At least now, for better or worse, he wouldn't have to carry around this terrible secret alone. His voice finally trailed off and he sat back, waiting for them to speak.  
  
"So the part about- ," Ron's voice cracked slightly, "-about how 'one has to die at the other's hand' means. "  
  
"That only I can kill Voldemort. or be murdered myself," Harry finished for him, letting the words hang in the air. It was silent for a moment until Ginny spoke.  
  
"Well, we won't let you do it alone."  
  
"What are you talking about? Yes, Ginny, you will. No one else is going die because of me," Harry said forcefully.  
  
"I have no intention of being killed," Ginny retorted stubbornly, crossing her arms across her chest. "However, I also have no intention of letting you take this on yourself."  
  
"But- ," Harry spluttered, looking at Ron for support. Surely Ron, being the overprotective big brother, would put a stop to this nonsense. However, Ron just frowned at him.  
  
"She's right, Harry. You may be the only one who can kill V- Voldemort in the end, but it doesn't mean it's only your battle to fight. In fact, it would be quite selfish of you to do so. Would you deny Neville his right to get revenge for his parent's torture?"  
  
Harry was so stunned by this rare burst of insightfulness from Ron - and the implication of what he was saying- that he almost missed the fact that Ron had said Voldemort's name. When he realised this, his face must have reflected the shock he felt, because Ron let out a shaky laugh and explained that he'd been practising.  
  
"Mum's the only one now who won't say his name, but we think she'll come around soon," he said. Harry wondered if Hermione's chiding had been the reason behind this change for Ron.  
  
"What I don't understand," Ron continued, frowning again, "is why all the trouble keeping the rest of the prophesy from Voldemort? He already knows now that you had powers 'the Dark Lord knew not' because that's what defeated him sixteen years ago."  
  
"You're forgetting the rest, Ron," Hermione said. "It also says, 'either must die at the hand of the other'."  
  
"So?" Ron asked, and Harry had to admit to himself that he thought the same thing.  
  
"So, that means that only Harry can kill him, doesn't it? So, Voldemort wouldn't have to fear Dumbledore anymore, would he? What do you think the first thing Voldemort would do if he no longer feared Dumbledore? What would tear down the wizarding community like nothing else?"  
  
"An attack on Hogwarts," Ron whispered, looking white as a ghost.  
  
"Oh, God," Ginny said, almost inaudible, and it was Harry's turn to pat her knee.  
  
"Right," Hermione said grimly. "Also, let's not forget that knowledge is power. For all that Voldemort knows, the second half of that prophesy could say anything- even a way to defeat you, Harry." She sighed. "Well, at least now I understand why you've been reading every Defense book you can get your hands on. I think we should all take a leaf out of your- um- book, and read up on some new spells as well. Speaking of that, have you given any thought to continuing our D.A. classes?"  
  
"Er. no," Harry admitted.  
  
"Well, I think you should ask Dumbledore for permission to continue them. We don't know what our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher is going to be like, and it's a good idea to enforce the other students' view of you as their leader. Not to mention that the D.A. classes have successfully brought together students from different Hogwarts' houses- excepting Slytherin, of course- and Dumbledore's always talking about needing unity between houses."  
  
"Hermione, I'm not going to be leading people to battle," Harry protested.  
  
"Well, you'd better get used to the idea, Harry, because you might just have to."  
  
"But not students."  
  
"In case you've forgotten, you're still a student, as are Ron, Ginny, and I. Besides, don't you think other students should be able to defend themselves as much as possible? You might not lead them to battle, but that doesn't mean that the battle won't come to them. I think you'll find that your skills will improve as well, after teaching everyone else."  
  
"Oh, all right then," Harry said. He had to admit, he really enjoyed the D.A. classes last year, and looked forward to the thought of the other students making even more progress this year- assuming that they would still want to participate in the class.  
  
"I think," Ron said suddenly, "that we should all research different aspects of Dark Arts' defense. It would be a waste of our time for us to all read the same thing. So, how about this- I'll read up on tactics and strategy; Hermione, you can research different charms; Ginny, you're the best at curses so how about you look up those.and Harry, you can just cover the general dark arts defense spells. Then we can come back and share the important- or most useful- spells and ideas that we find. If it works out, maybe we could meet early before the D.A. meetings. What do you think?"  
  
"That's a wonderful idea, Ron," Hermione said, smiling at him. Harry and Ginny agreed. Ron blushed deeply.  
  
They talked for a bit longer until Ginny was nodding off while sitting straight up on the couch. Harry climbed back in his bunk after getting ready for bed, and slipped the moonstone back over his head.  
  
"Harry?" Ron asked sleepily.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"D'you think I could borrow that Quidditch strategy book I gave you? I was thinking of ways to. apply it to defense tactics." He trailed off, yawning. And with that, both of them fell sound asleep. 


	4. Failed Negotiations

Chapter Four

**Failed Negotiations**

**As the next few days passed Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny spent them mostly as they did the first two—playing Quidditch and swimming in the surf—as to not raise Mrs. Weasley's suspicions.  However, when inside, they played a lot less games and instead used that time to read up on their "assigned" defense subjects.  Harry had almost finished the book Ginny gave him.  Hermione was rereading their Charms textbook and was outlining different spells on a roll of parchment that was reaching alarming proportions.  Ron could be found lying in a corner of the living area muttering to himself; Harry's Quidditch strategy guide, a chess set, and several diagrams he had drawn spread out around him on the floor.  Ginny, Fred, and George often had whispered discussions together—Ginny taking notes the whole time.  If either Mr. or Mrs. Weasley found any of this odd neither said anything, so the four of them kept on.  **

Before any of them knew it, an entire week at the beach house had gone by.  Fred, George, Bill, and Charlie, were all scheduled to leave the next day—all needing to get back to work.  Mr. Weasley had been spending most of each day at the Ministry already but he had come home early for the going away for which dinner Mrs. Weasley had spent the whole day cooking.  

While the twins, Bill, and Charlie were busy packing, Harry and Ron changed into tee shirts and bathing suits and walked down to the ocean for a late afternoon swim.  It was a few hours later as they were walking back to the house for dinner that it happened.  A sharp pang, so excruciating that Harry bit his lip to keep from screaming aloud, radiated from his scar, searing his forehead.  Harry fell to his knees, clutching his forehead.  Pain seared white hot through his skull; he didn't think he could survive if it lasted much longer….  Then after a moment that felt like forever, the pain left him as quickly as it arrived.  He flopped on his back, panting, and tears of pain leaked from the corners of his eyes.  It was then that Harry remembered Ron was still there and looked around for him.  

Ron was standing directly above him, looking horrified.  "What do you think it means?" he whispered, almost inaudible.  "Could you tell what he was feeling?  Like—like before?"

"I dunno…."  Harry said shakily and wiped his eyes with trembling hands.  "I think it was…determination."  He couldn't think of a thing to say to reassure Ron.  His scar had been almost dormant all summer and he didn't like to think what this recent episode meant.  

"Look, your lip--."  Ron said, pointing at Harry's face.

Harry dabbed at his lip with his tee shirt and it came away bright red from where he had bitten it.  

"Mum'll notice that for sure—it's already swelling, mate.  D'you think we should tell her what happened?"

Harry shrugged, unable to speak.  He attempted to stand but fell back down to his knees, his head felt like it weighed a ton and the ground tilted under his feet.  Ron grabbed his arms and pulled him to his feet.

"Can you walk?"  Ron asked, concernedly.

"Yeah.  Its getting better already, don't worry," Harry lied.

Ron eyed him warily but led the way to the house; Harry staggering after him.

~*~  

**When Harry reached the dinner table, after changing into dry clothes, he noticed it was a full as the night of his birthday party.  Everyone was already there; exclaiming about how delicious the food looked as they sat around the table, spooning piles of food on plates.  Mrs. Weasley, however, was picking at her own food; pushing it around her plate with a fork.  Her eyes were red and her nose slightly puffy.  Harry suspected it was because most of her children were leaving the next day and wondered if she was remembering the boggart she saw last year.  He and Ron exchanged dark glances and mentally agreed not to mention Harry's scar to anyone yet; they didn't want to spoil the dinner.  **

Glancing up, Mrs. Weasley spotted Ron and Harry, "Harry!  What happened to your lip?  Are you alright dear?"

Harry froze as all eyes turned to him.  He hadn't thought of what to tell her yet.  He met Ron's eyes again and silently pleaded with him to help.

"Don't worry, Mum.  Harry just scraped it when a wave knocked him against the ocean floor."  

Harry's heart soared.  Ron really was the best mate a person could have.

"It was a rather puny wave, though.  Good thing he had me around to save him," Ron continued, rather unnecessarily in Harry's opinion.  Harry glared at Ron, who grinned cheekily back at him.  On second thought, Ron really was a great prat.  

Harry looked and met Hermione's gaze.  She frowned faintly and Harry shook his head.  "_Later,"_ he mouthed to her and she nodded.  Obviously, she was not fooled by their story. 

Turning to his food, Harry had just stuffed a large piece of chicken in his mouth when he heard the unmistakable "pop" of someone apparating into the room behind him.  Mrs. Weasley screeched, "_PERCY!" and plates of food went flying as she and Mr. Weasley bounded to their feet.  It was indeed Percy; but like Harry, the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione sat speechless, unsure of what action to take._

Percy looked terrible.  He was extremely pale; there was a gash across his eyebrow that was dripping blood down the front of his once fancy robes, which were now torn and hanging limply against his frame.  Mrs. Weasley had enveloped him into a suffocating hug and the face that stared over her shoulder looked shell-shocked as if he had seen his worst nightmare come true.

"Dad.  Bill.  Charlie."  He looked at each of them in turn, gently prizing Mrs. Weasley's arms away.  "There's been an attack at the Ministry.  We need you to come right away."  Percy spoke stiffly and Harry could tell he was trying to appear in control but his voice wavered nonetheless.

Mrs. Weasley gasped, clutching her hand to her chest and Hermione let out a little scream.  Bill and Charlie had jumped immediately followed closely by Fred and George.  

"What about us?"  George said.  "We're of age, we can help."  

Mr. Weasley turned to him and Fred quickly.  "No, I need you two to stay here with your mother and the other four.  If something were to…happen…your mother will need help since the others are still underage."  He turned to his wife, "Molly, I'll send word as soon as I can."  He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek and with four distinct pops he, Percy, Bill, and Charlie disapparated.  Harry turned back to face the table and exchanged traumatized looks with Hermione, Ron, and Ginny.  He felt utterly and completely useless. 

~*~

            **The remaining Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione retreated into the living room, dinner forgotten.  Harry, Fred, and George took one couch while Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Hermione took the other.  Ron followed Hermione to the couch and squeezed in next to her, not seeming to notice the tight fit and no one complained.  For the second time that week the room was so quiet Harry found himself counting the ticks coming from the mantel clock.  The hours passed by like days and Harry was forcibly reminded of the night Mr. Weasley was taken to St. Mungo's hospital.  **

Mrs. Weasley was sitting on one end of the couch, her face deathly pale making a shocking contrast to her red-rimmed eyes.  Ginny sat on her left, absentmindedly patting her mother's arm with her head resting on Mrs. Weasley's shoulder.  Hermione was on the other side of Ginny, her left hand intertwined with Ron's.  Looking up, Harry saw her staring determinedly at him.  Almost imperceptibly, she gestured with her right hand at her forehead, her eyes widening slightly.  Harry understood what she meant immediately.  _His scar_.  He nodded at her and her brow wrinkled in concern.  

Hours later, Harry realised he had sunken into a type of half sleep stupor and was pulled back to reality by the sound of hushed whispering.  Hermione and Ginny were discussing something quietly and got up off the couch, without disturbing Ron, who appeared to have fallen asleep—his neck at an odd angle with the couch.  Mrs. Weasley was still awake, her eyes were open anyway, and staring sightlessly at the fire that had burned down to the coals; casting odd shadows over the silent room.  Harry glanced over to Fred and George and was surprised to see that they too were still awake.  Fred had slid down so that his head was resting on the back of their couch, staring at the ceiling as if he hoped to find answers there.  George was now leaning forward, elbows on his knees, forehead resting in his hands.  

A few minutes later Hermione and Ginny returned, arms laden with pillows and blankets, Hermione precariously balancing a tray of mugs.  Hermione handed Fred and George each a pillow, blanket and steaming mug—which turned out to contain hot chocolate.  After giving Harry his things, she squeezed his hand to get his attention and motioned for him to join her.  Harry stood to follow her and promptly stumbled, his legs were so stiff from sitting in one position for hours on end, if not for Hermione's strong grip he would have fallen on his face.  He followed her out on the back porch where it was so dark she melted into the shadows. 

"Hermione?" he queried, unable to see where she went.

"Shh…over here Harry," came her disembodied voice somewhere to his left.  He followed the sound of her voice until he bumped into something warm and soft.  

"Oomph…sorry," he said, after trodding on her foot.

"Nevermind that Harry…tell me what happened this afternoon?  Did your scar hurt you again?"

He nodded, then realised she wouldn't be able to see him in the dark, and went on to quickly explain what happened.  After he finished she was silent for a long time.  Eventually he heard a soft, melancholy sigh, and he waited expectantly for her to speak.  When she did, her voice was choked and he understood she was holding back tears. 

"I'm just so worried—not about myself but for Ron.  So many members of his family are wrapped up in fighting Voldemort; the chances that no one will get killed…" her voice trailed off.  Harry waited for her to continue, not knowing quite what to say, if there was anything he could say at all.  "I wish I knew what going on, I can't stand this waiting!" she exclaimed frustrated voice.  "You haven't dreamed anything lately, Harry?"

"No, I haven't.  Ginny gave me this moonstone so I've only had normal—."

"A _moonstone_ Harry?  They're really valuable.  When did she give it to you?"

"Er…the other night, after everyone else had gone to bed."

"Oh," was all she said, her voice unreadable.

"So when did Ron wizen up?" he asked her, not wanting to get into a conversation about Ginny.

"_Oh," she said again but in a much different voice.  Harry would have sworn that he could feel her blushing.  "Well, you know, we had a good chance to talk the week before you arrived…He said he didn't want anything to happen to either of us without me knowing how he felt."_

"I'm happy for you," Harry said, trying to sound it.

"Thank you.  Harry, you're not upset are you?  That Ron and I are…are together?  You know this won't change things."

"I'll only be upset if I see you two snogging at breakfast.  It will have to be at least 10 o'clock before I can stomach that," he replied, attempting to force a laugh.  Inside though, he knew that it would indeed change things and he felt a pang of sadness.  Hermione seemed to sense this and, to Harry's great surprise, wrapped him up in a tight hug.  He had only hugged Hermione like this a few times before and then it usually involved her bawling all over his shirt with Harry comforting her, not she comforting him.  After a moment's hesitation, he wrapped his arms around her in return and they stood there for several minutes in a comfortable silence.  _I can't believe how much we've grown up the last few years,_ Harry thought to himself.  He felt a wave of guilt thinking of the anguish Hermione and Ron had probably felt because of him.  He silently vowed to protect them better from here on out.  

"Harry?"  Hermione said questioningly and Harry realised he had her in a tight squeeze.  

"Sorry," he said and dropped his arms quickly.  "I guess we'd best go in, I don't want to worry Mrs. Weasley."  Hermione said nothing but followed him inside.  

Harry sat back down next to the twins and wrapped himself up in his blanket feeling chilled suddenly.  Hermione settled down in her place between Ginny and Ron.  He reached for his hot chocolate left on the small table and was surprised that it was still warm.  _Probably charmed to keep its contents hot, he thought to himself.  He felt Ginny's eyes on him but didn't look up to meet them, not wanting to see the worry and the hurt there.  Instead, he settled his head deeper into the pillow and closed his eyes, pretending to sleep.  Sleep, however, he knew would never come.  His thoughts and plans for the future swirled sickeningly in his head as he tried to prepare himself mentally for the months ahead._

~*~

            **It was well after daybreak before anything else significant happened.  With an audible bang that cracked like a gunshot through the silent house, Charlie Weasley stood before them in the living room.  Harry was startled out of a light doze and jumped up, reaching instinctively for his wand in his back pocket.  **

            "Relax, Harry," Charlie said with a weak smile.  Harry looked around the room and saw the rest of the Weasleys and Hermione staring at him.  He flushed deeply and shoved his wand back into his jeans.  

            "Right," he muttered and sat down on the couch.  Mrs. Weasley was already up and hugging her son.  

            "We're okay, Mum, we're all alive," Charlie said, patting her back.  He straightened her up and looked at her seriously.  "But we need to talk," he glanced around the room seeing everyone else looking at them expectantly.  "Over here," he said and pulled her out of earshot into the kitchen.  The temporary relief that Harry felt at hearing that the other Weasleys were alive vanished immediately.  Obviously, Charlie was telling Mrs. Weasley something important.  Was one of them was alive but seriously hurt?  Was it someone they knew who had been murdered?  What if it was a member of the Order?  Harry's chest constricted around his heart and he could scarcely breathe.  Not daring to look at the others for fear of seeing the same thoughts in their faces he stared down at his hands, waiting.  

            Without warning or even an explanation Mrs. Weasley disapparated from where she stood in the kitchen and Charlie staggered back to the living room, plopping without his usual grace, into the rocking chair Mr. Weasley had sat in only a few nights earlier.  They all waited for an explanation of events anxiously, staring holes into Charlie, who just reclined with his eyes closed.  He looked older and more tired than Harry had ever seen him.

            "_Well?!_"  Fred exclaimed finally, making them all jump.  "Are you going to tell us what's going on or what?"

            "There's been an attack at Ministry," Charlie said unhelpfully.

            "Yes, well, we know that already," Ron snapped impatiently.  

            Charlie sighed and rubbed his forehead with his hand as if trying to erase memories from the night.  "Do you lot remember what Dad said about Fudge wanting to negotiate with the Death Eaters?"

            "He _didn't," Hermione whispered, catching on._

            "He did," Charlie said grimly.  "Apparently he had his fireplace connected with one of theirs so that they could "talk"…Of course the Death Eaters never had any intention of following through with negotiations.  Fudge left the entire Ministry open to attack.  As soon as he made the link with their fireplace, they overpowered him.  At least a hundred Death Eaters managed to enter the Ministry through his office before the Floo Network could cut off access to his fireplace."

            "That _stupid git!"  Ron roared, incensed.  "That's my __family he's putting into danger.  The Ministry had better sack him.  That—that—."_

            "Well you don't have to worry about that," Charlie said with a sigh, "because Fudge is dead."

            A stunned silence greeted this and it was several minutes before anyone spoke.  

            "Who have they got to replace him then?"  Ron whispered, his voice deadly quiet after his outburst a minute earlier.

            "Who else was killed?"  George asked simultaneously.  

            "We still don't know the extent of the damage, George," Charlie replied.  "They're still trying to…identify bodies.  It is a devastating blow, never—even in the last war—has there been such an attack that resulted in so many deaths.  It was five o'clock, everyone's guard was down, and they were all getting ready to leave for home.  On top of everything else, the first thing that the Death Eaters did after entering the ministry was to cast an enclosure charm over the entire second floor, trapping the Aurors inside.  It cost precious minutes before the spell could be broken and the Aurors could escape.  Although, it probably saved Percy's life—he was up there at the time—because the Death Eater couldn't get inside, either."

            "Where's Bill?"  Ginny asked.

            "He's at St. Mungo's with Fleur," Charlie explained.  "She got pretty banged up fighting off three Death Eaters I hear.  Everyone seriously hurt got taken there but it's so full now that those who were well enough to travel were taken to Murrayfield Hospital in Scotland." 

            "So where did Mum go?  Where's Dad?"  Fred demanded.

            "That's Dad's business and I'm not going to tell you so don't badger me about Fred," Charlie said stubbornly, cutting off Fred's protests.  "Dad sent me here with a sleeping draught.  He knows you all didn't sleep a wink last night and he wants you all to nap until he gets back tonight.  Yes, all of you --no arguments," he said sternly seeing the look on George's face.  

            Charlie got up and went into the kitchen then, returning with six steaming glasses, and handing them out.  Harry hadn't planned to drink his potion, wanting to have his wits about him in case there was an attack on them here in the cabin.  He chanced a look at Charlie to see if he noticed and saw Charlie glaring at him as if reading his mind.  Harry hastily gulped down his potion then, not wanting to face the wrath of an irate dragon-tamer.  Almost immediately, Harry felt the sleep draught start to work in his veins and he barely made it back to his bunk, carrying his pillow and blanket, before falling into a heavy sleep. 

~*~

            **The first thing that Harry noticed when he finally awoke was that the sun was already setting.  A warm, red light bathed the bedroom and he stretched, feeling peaceful.  Then he remembered why he was waking up from a nap to begin with and sat up quickly.  Ron, Fred, and George were still sleeping soundly so he slipped quietly from the top bunk and crept out into the darkened hall.  He had only made it a few feet outside the bedroom when he tripped over something large and went sprawling.  **

            "_Ouch_," the large something said.

            "Charlie?"

            "In my better days…"  Charlie muttered, disentangling himself from Harry and standing.

            "Why are you on the floor?"  Harry asked.

            "Watching after you lot, of course.  Must've fallen asleep though.  Want to help me fix something for dinner?"

            "Sure," Harry replied, letting Charlie help pull him up off the floor. 

            The next hour would have been quite enjoyable under normal circumstances.  Charlie spent the time conjuring up a large roast and Harry cut up carrots and potatoes with a sharp knife, just as he did in the kitchen with Aunt Petunia.  Soon there were delicious smells emitting from the kitchen, drawing the others from the bedrooms and sleepily down the hall.  

            "Harry, I didn't know you knew how to cook Muggle-style," Ginny said, smiling at him as she busied herself by setting the table.  

            "Well, yeah, Aunt Petunia always made me help her," he replied.

            "That's sweet Harry, it really is," Fred said, yawning and stretched out at the kitchen table.  His hair stuck out in a hundred directions.  "Maybe we should get Mum to knit you a Christmas apron instead this year."  

            Harry responded by accidentally dumping carrot peelings on Fred's head. 

            Soon all seven of them were sitting around the long table eating hungrily; none of them had eaten since the night before.  They were a somber group, however, despite the bit of teasing earlier.  

            They had almost finished dinner when Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and to everyone's surprise, Percy showed up.  The next few minutes were a storm of red as the Weasleys took turns hugging each other.  Harry noticed, though, that Percy was standing awkwardly outside the circle.  Harry stood there uncertainly as well, not knowing whether to approach him, when Ginny broke away from the group and said impatiently, "_Percy!_" 

            Percy jumped about a foot in the air and turned to face her.  

            "Get over here you git," she said, and smiled suddenly.  She wrapped her arms around Percy almost as a mother would and he buried his face in her hair.  

            "I'm—I'm so sorry," he mumbled into her shoulder, voice breaking slightly.  

            "Don't worry about that now," Mrs. Weasley said sternly, also turning to him.  "We can talk about that later.  Charlie, we're starved.  Is there any food left?"

            "Of course, I'll get it.  You and dad have a seat."

            Everyone settled themselves back around the table.  Harry thought how different it seemed having Percy back.  Ron looked pale under his freckles and was holding Hermione's hand tightly but kept glancing at Percy every few minutes as if to make sure he was still there.  No one spoke while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Bill, and Percy finished eating.  Finally, Mr. Weasley sat his fork down, wiped his mouth on a napkin, and pushed his plate back.  Harry felt the tension thicken in the room as Mr. Weasley prepared to talk.  Harry knew they were about to find out something enormous, he just couldn't imagine what.  

            "Well, as I'm sure you all have wheedled some information out of Charlie, I assume you know the gist of what happened at the Ministry," Mr. Weasley paused, glancing around at them as they nodded their consent.  "Well, what we didn't find out until sometime later is that there was a simultaneous attack at Azkaban."  

            Harry heard Hermione gasp, but couldn't take his eyes off Mr. Weasley to look at her.  

            "Many Death Eaters did escape," Mr. Weasley continued.  "Unfortunately, one of those people was Lucius Malfoy, who we think is near the top of the Death Eater hierarchy."  

            "Do we know who else escaped as well?"  Ginny asked breathlessly.

            "I do.  However, I don't want you all to get bogged down worrying about such details.  A Death Eater is a Death Eater as far as you lot should be concerned."  Mr. Weasley said sternly.  "I know it will be difficult for you who are returning to school to concentrate on your studies during this time, but I want you all to try and forget about the war as much as possible."

            _Not bloody likely_, Harry thought and looked up to meet Ron's eyes.  He could tell the redhead was thinking the same thing.  Harry knew Mr. Weasley meant well by trying to keep them separate from the horrors going on in the wizarding world, but he did not know about the prophecy.  He did not know that Harry was never going to be able to distance himself from the war while Voldemort is still alive.  Harry looked up again and this time met Mr. Weasley's unblinking gaze.  Harry was just realising that perhaps Mr. Weasley knew more than he let on when Ron spoke, interrupting his thoughts.

            "Dad?  So who are they going to get to replace Fudge?"

            Mr. Weasley tore his gaze from Harry's, looked at his wife, and grasped her hand tightly.  Mrs. Weasley nodded at him encouragingly and he sighed, turning to face the rest of them.

            "Well…me."

***A/N:  Thanks to Lux-soap and DoGGie WaNdeRer for their lovely reviews.  Lux-soap, I'm afraid that I'm not JK Rowling **laughs maniacally** but it was generous of you to suggest so.  =)******


	5. Premises and Promises

Chapter Five  
  
Premises and Promises  
  
The next few days went by as a blur for Harry. Mr. Weasley was gone most of the time, and the twins, Bill, Charlie, and Percy alternated between staying at the beach house to help Mrs. Weasley, and going back to their own jobs. Finally, it was the end of their vacation and they were scheduled to go to Diagon Alley the next day, the day before boarding the Hogwarts Express. Mrs. Weasley had originally hesitated in allowing them to go and required much persuasion from her children before she acquiesced.  
  
"I just don't know, Ron. What if something were to happen?" she had said earlier. "Perhaps it would be best if I just picked up your things for you again."  
  
"But Mum, we haven't been to Diagon Alley in ages, and we haven't seen Fred and George's premises, and Harry needs all new robes- you can't buy those for him this time; he needs to be re-measured, and besides, who would watch us while you are gone?" Ron said this all in one breath, then stopped suddenly with a pleading look on his face.  
  
"Oh. all right then. However, you four need to stay together at all times, do you understand? I don't want you going anywhere by yourself."  
  
"That'll make going to the loo interesting, then," Ron retorted.  
  
~*~  
  
That night after supper, Harry wandered around the cottage gathering his things to pack in his trunk, feeling a little sad. He had enjoyed his time at the beach immensely and he had no idea when he would have the chance to return- if he ever had the chance. He piled everything haphazardly into his trunk, wishing he could perform cleaning spells as Tonks' mum apparently could.  
  
After finishing, he joined Ron, Hermione, and Ginny in the living room where they were sitting around the table playing Exploding Snap and drinking hot chocolate brewed in the fireplace cauldron. On closer inspection, however, he realised that Hermione was only pretending to play. Instead, she was concentrating on a list of items on a piece of parchment in her lap.  
  
"What's that, Hermione?" Harry asked as he sat down between her and Ginny.  
  
"Shh, Harry," she said, giving him a warning look and raising her eyebrows towards Mrs. Weasley, who was bustling around in the kitchen. "It's a list of things we need at Diagon Alley tomorrow," she continued in a whisper.  
  
"Why is that a secret?" he whispered back.  
  
As an answer, Hermione shoved it at him and replied, "Animagi."  
  
Harry peered at the parchment and read a long list of items in Hermione's neat handwriting. "We used loads of these ingredients when we made the Polyjuice Potion."  
  
Hermione nodded in agreement. "I know; in some ways it's very similar. But at least we can buy these items and not steal them from Snape's office." She grinned at him.  
  
After a few enjoyable rounds of Exploding Snap, Harry and Ron made their way down the hall for bed. Harry automatically reached for the moonstone necklace, but hesitated before putting it on this time. If I hadn't had it on the night before the Ministry attack, perhaps I could've dreamed something- anything- that might have been an early warning, he thought miserably, remembering the look of horror on Percy's face that night.  
  
"Hey, Ron?" Harry asked suddenly, setting the necklace on the nightstand.  
  
"Mmph?" Ron replied, his face buried in his pillow.  
  
"So, have your parents forgiven Percy for all. you know."  
  
"Well." Ron began, propping up on one elbow to face Harry. "They took a long walk with him on the beach the day after the attack. He's been right humble since then. I don't know what Dad said to him. but, well. I'm glad it wasn't me."  
  
"Have you forgiven him, then?"  
  
There was a long pause, and Harry almost thought Ron had fallen asleep, until he heard him say, "It's not exactly the right time to hold a grudge, is it, mate?"  
  
It wasn't until Harry was practically asleep that he realised Ron had never really answered his question.  
  
~*~  
  
Bang. Bang. Bang.  
  
Harry was back in Professor Dumbledore's office. He reached down, picked up a whirling silver gadget, and threw it against the wall. Bang.  
  
He turned around to look for something else, and found himself standing at the bar in the Three Broomsticks. He could see his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. Madame Rosmerta stood in front of him, smiling. "Here you go, Harry, take this," she said, handing him a tall glass. "We won't be needing it anymore." He took the glass from her, and threw it with all of his might at his reflection. Bang.  
  
Harry was standing in the Slytherin common room. All of the fires were out, and only cold ashes remained in the hearth. "You won't find what you're looking for here, Potter," came a cold, drawling voice behind him. Harry spun around to face Draco Malfoy, who was holding his wand by his side. "I've got a secret, Potter," Draco said, and raised his wand to point at Harry's chest. Bang.  
  
Harry sat straight up in bed, drenched in sweat, his pajamas clinging to him damply.  
  
Bang. Bang. Bang.  
  
"You two had better get up or we're going to be late, you know! I can't stand out here knocking all morning! Ron! Wake up and open this door!" Percy's peevish voice sounded from outside Harry and Ron's room. Harry rolled over and glanced at Ron, who was still sound asleep and snoring loudly. Groaning, Harry crawled out of bed and went to open the door to face a very irritated-looking Percy.  
  
"Why is this door locked? I've been knocking on your door ten minutes already!"  
  
"I dunno," Harry said truthfully. He rubbed his eyes sleepily. "What time is it?"  
  
"It's already 5:15 in the morning. You two are going to have to hurry if we're going to leave on time. I have a very busy day today and can't afford to be late. Mum says to make sure your trunk is packed and bring it out with you; we won't be coming back here after going to Diagon Alley." With that, Percy turned on his heel and walked stiffly back down the hall. Harry noted wryly that Percy's change of heart did not seem to extend to bossing his youngest brother.  
  
"Oi! Ron, wake up!" Harry said, tossing his pillow at Ron's head.  
  
"Whatizzit? Whasgoinon?" Ron mumbled sleepily.  
  
"Time to get up. Why'd you lock the door last night, anyway?"  
  
"Isn't that obvious?" Ron yawned loudly. "I didn't want Percy to wake us up early. What time is it, anyway?"  
  
"You don't want to know, mate. You don't want to know."  
  
~*~  
  
An hour later, they all stood in the middle of the living room, trunks and cages full of animals next to them.  
  
"So, how are we getting there, Mum?" Ginny asked. "By Portkey?"  
  
"No dear, Floo powder. We're going to your father's office."  
  
Harry groaned inwardly at the thought of traveling by Floo, but was excited at the idea of seeing the Minister of Magic's office.  
  
One by one, they took a handful of powder, threw it into the flames of the fireplace in the living room, and shouted, "Minister's Office!"  
  
As the dust cleared, Harry saw that he was standing in the middle of large, dimly lit room carved entirely out of dark red marble. There were tall columns on either side of the massive fireplace, and a large Oriental rug that stretched the length of the room to a dark, cherry wood desk where Mr. Weasley was sitting and reading a long scroll of parchment. A dozen pale violet paper airplanes, which Harry remembered from his first visit to the Ministry, jockeyed for position around the desk. Harry thought they made Mr. Weasley look like he had his own personal rain cloud above his head. He saw something move out of the corner of his eye and realised that there were several grim-looking wizards lined up on each of the walls, their scarlet robes blending perfectly with the surrounding marble.  
  
"Aurors, in their uniforms," Ron whispered in his ear.  
  
Harry was going to ask how Ron knew this when a prim-looking witch approached. She had a long, pointed nose, and peppered hair pulled into a tight bun. She was wearing navy robes so dark that they appeared black in the light from the fireplace.  
  
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic and to the Minister's private chambers," she said formally, stepping up to them.  
  
He watched as she removed all of the ash and soot from each of them with a swish of her wand. When it was his turn, Harry felt a tickle across his face, as if someone had brushed a feather duster across it. The witch then pointed her wand at the door and a swoosh of silver flew from it. A moment later, four burly men in overalls came marching in to collect their trunks, Crookshanks' basket, and Hedwig's and Pigwidgeon's cages.  
  
"They're taking them on to the Leaky Cauldron," Mrs. Weasley explained. "We'll be staying there tonight."  
  
Percy had already marched over to his father's desk, which was piled high with pieces of parchment, and now stood in front of it, talking to Mr. Weasley.  
  
"What can I do to help, Dad?" he asked, no hint of his usually smug voice.  
  
"We have Builders on the Atrium level right now; I'm sure they could do with an extra hand," Mr. Weasley said.  
  
Percy opened his mouth to protest, but then stopped at a look from Mr. Weasley. Harry thought Percy probably wanted nothing more than to continue working as the Minister's personal secretary, but Mr. Weasley was having none of it.  
  
Mr. Weasley turned to Harry and the others who had joined Percy at the desk, and explained, "The Ministry has been working around the clock to restore the damage done from the Death Eaters in hopes to improve morale. They just finished my office last night." Harry glanced around and repressed a shudder as he thought about what dark and terrible events took place in this very room, just a few nights earlier.  
  
Mrs. Weasley walked up and gave her husband a fierce kiss on the cheek. "We really mustn't stay long, Arthur. I know you're busy, and I want to get to the Leaky Cauldron before dark."  
  
"All right then, Molly," Mr. Weasley replied, and then turned to the prim-faced witch who had retreated to a corner of the room. "Esmeralda, if you don't mind?..." The witch nodded and walked briskly out of the room, clutching a clipboard in the crook of her arm.  
  
Since it appeared that it would be a few minutes before they left, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny took the opportunity to explore the rest of the office and left Mrs. Weasley, Percy, and Mr. Weasley to talk. They wandered through a door to the left of the room, into a larger room that appeared to be a meeting place. A long, wooden table- the same dark cherry colour as Mr. Weasley's desk- sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by high-backed, brown leather chairs. In the center of the table sat a spindly looking silver instrument, very similar to the one Harry had seen in Dumbledore's office.  
  
"I wonder what that is," Ginny said, pointing at the instrument, and speaking aloud the question in Harry's mind.  
  
"I expect it is some kind of communication device," Hermione answered, looking at it with interest. "You know, like a conference call."  
  
"A what?" Ron asked, looking at her dubiously.  
  
"It's a. oh, never mind. I wonder why we bothered to Floo here in the first place and not just to the Leaky Cauldron straightaway. I mean, your mum doesn't seem too keen on us staying here long," Hermione said thoughtfully.  
  
"Most likely they've shut off Floo access to all main fireplaces, as well as putting up anti-Apparation charms in all the local spots. That's what they did in 1975 after Voldemort constructed his first attack on the public at Diagon Alley, as a matter of fact," Ron said automatically. "After that is when the Ministry set up Creed Number Thirty-Five stating that, in event of a mass attack, all means of wizarding transportation will be limited to private premises only. Although, I imagine it is necessary for the Minister of Magic to still have some access to the Floo network, however restricted." He stopped and turned to look at them, eyes slightly unfocused.  
  
Harry goggled at him. "Who are you, and what have you done with Ron Weasley?"  
  
Ron flushed and shook his head from side to side, as if to clear it. Ginny answered for him. "We forgot to tell you, Harry, with everything else that's going on. Ron's been having these. funny turns, you see, where he has these thoughts or memories that aren't exactly his."  
  
"WHAT? How can you have thoughts that aren't yours? When did this start?"  
  
This time Hermione answered. "It's been happening ever since we went into the Department of Mysteries. I think it has something to do with that brain that attacked him. It must have contained other people's memories- or something similar- and they transferred to Ron so now he has these random thoughts at odd times." She trailed off, looking at Ron pensively.  
  
Just then, Mrs. Weasley walked in the room, interrupting the conversation. "It's time to go. The car is here."  
  
They said their goodbyes to Mr. Weasley, and then followed Mrs. Weasley and Percy out the door to the office where the Minister's private lift was located. One of the Aurors followed them into the lift, scarlet robes swishing importantly around him. Harry couldn't imagine how they would all fit, but then realised that the lift was probably charmed to stretch, just like the Ministry cars. They ascended quickly and paused at the Atrium level. At this, Percy stepped out of the lift and stated that he would see them all that night at dinner.  
  
They went up another level, and the doors opened to reveal a glassed-in, rather shabby-looking lobby. One dull light in the ceiling flickered ominously, and there was dirt and old papers littered across the room. Harry peered through the grimy glass window next to him and realised he was looking out into Muggle London.  
  
The Auror herded them quickly across the room and through the glass door to the outside, where a shiny black car waited for them. Harry turned back to look at the building they had just left, and saw that signs reading "DANGER: CONDEMNED BUILDING!" were plastered over all of the windows.  
  
Mrs. Weasley slid into the front of the car quickly, so Muggles would not notice her wizarding robes, while Ron, Hermione, and Ginny crawled into the back seat. Harry wondered if anyone had noticed the Auror's conspicuously red robes, and took a chance to glance at him before joining the others in the car. He was shocked to see an ordinary looking brunette man in slacks and a scarlet jumper standing on the sidewalk. The only thing that gave him away as a wizard was that he was surreptitiously holding a wand tight in his right hand. The Auror noticed Harry staring and gave him a sly wink before shutting the car door after him and motioning the driver on.  
  
~*~  
  
They reached the Leaky Cauldron in record time; the Ministry car had whipped in and out of traffic just as it had in Harry's third year. The innkeeper, Tom, was waiting for them inside the darkened door of the Leaky Cauldron, which was unusually empty. He ushered them through the few curious patrons sitting around the bar, and up several flights of stairs to a part of the building Harry had never seen before.  
  
"These'll be your all's rooms here, Mistress Weasley," he said, bowing awkwardly in front of her and grinning toothlessly, as he opened the doors to three rooms along the hall. Harry peered into the closest one and gasped at what was obviously the best room the Leaky Cauldron had to offer. Almost every surface was gilded to the point of being extremely tacky. There were crystal candelabras in every corner, backed by beveled mirrors that sent points of light dancing around the room. A large four-poster bed, lacquered completely in black paint, took up most of the spacious room. Suspended in midair above the bed was a golden chandelier lit by faeries who were cavorting and giggling madly. Harry could feel Hermione shaking with silent laughter next to him.  
  
"Oh, thank you, Tom, but your regular rooms will suffice," Mrs. Weasley said politely.  
  
Tom looked shocked, as if Mrs. Weasley had just suggested to him that he make his pub alcohol-free. "I wouldn't think of it, Mistress," he wheezed. "No Minister's wife is goin' to stay in some dirty, flea-bitten room the regulars use. Not while Ol' Tom is innkeeper, no sir."  
  
Harry exchanged an amused glance with Ron at Tom's mention of fleas in the rooms they usually took. Hermione looked a little sick. After leaving Mrs. Weasley in the first room, Tom took Harry and Ron to their room before leading Hermione and Ginny to theirs. Harry's and Ron's room was nowhere near as flashy as Mrs. Weasley's was, but it would still stretch one's imagination to call it tasteful. There were, however, two enormous feather beds that looked so inviting that Harry considered spending the rest of the afternoon taking a nap in one instead of shopping in Diagon Alley. At the foot of each bed were his and Ron's trunks. Twin dressers lined each side of the door, and on one lay a note written in spidery handwriting on a piece of ancient parchment:  
  
Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter,  
  
Your owls have been taken to Eyelops Owl Emporium for a complimentary  
checkup and grooming session. They will be returned to you before  
your departure in the morning. Thank you for choosing the Leaky  
Cauldron for your patronage.  
  
"Wow," Ron said, "now that's service. C'mon Harry. I'm dying to see the joke shop."  
  
They met Ginny and Hermione in the hallway and stopped by Mrs. Weasley's room to tell her they were leaving. After promising her that they would be back by dark, and that they would "stay together no matter what" they were finally out of the Leaky Cauldron and free to explore on their own.  
  
As they stepped out on Diagon Alley from the back of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry noticed immediately the changes that had taken place since he had last been there. The usually bustling street was practically empty, and those who were about wore grim expressions and spoke in whispers, their eyes darting furtively around. Harry glanced down the alley and drew in a sharp breath. There were Aurors on every corner, standing with their backs straight and wands held at their sides, staring down passersby as if each were a Death Eater in disguise.  
  
They made a quick trip to Gringotts first to get some spending money, and then set out to find the supplies they would need for their Animagi transformation. Ron had wanted to go to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes right away, but Hermione convinced him that they should get all their school supplies first.  
  
They stopped in the apothecary to pick up boomslang skin, fluxweed, spine of lionfish, puffer-fish eyes, and other various ingredients.  
  
"I don't understand why we can't just wish these things into the Room of Requirement, or better yet- wish an already made Animagus potion into being," Ron grumbled, struggling with a heavy sack of erumpent horns as they left the shop. "This lot practically cost a fortune."  
  
"Well, that might work," Hermione said acidly, "if we wanted to be Animagi in the Room of Requirement only. Items brought out of the room- that you didn't bring in- will only last temporarily."  
  
"How do you know?" Ginny asked, curiously. Hermione pretended not to hear the question and kept her eyes straight ahead as she walked, but Harry could see a faint blush starting in her cheeks.  
  
"Oh, don't tell us," Ron said sarcastically. "You tried taking some of those Defense books out, didn't you? Wanted to do some more light reading, did you?"  
  
Hermione sniffed, and walked past him down the alley toward Flourish & Blotts, studiously ignoring Ron. Ginny, Ron, and Harry followed her, chuckling quietly together.  
  
~*~  
  
A few hours later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had been to Flourish & Blotts for their schoolbooks and to Madame Malkin's robe shop so that Harry could buy new school robes. He was surprised to find he had even grown out of his dress robes from fourth year, and bought new scarlet ones that were lined in a silky gold material. The four of them went back to the Leaky Cauldron briefly to deposit their packages and supplies, and to eat lunch before setting out for the joke shop.  
  
They didn't have to look too long before finding the twins' store. After walking a bit down the alley past Gringotts, they noticed one shop that had an enormous crowd in front of it, and that was emitting strange noises. As they approached, they saw that Fred and George had erected a makeshift stage in front of the store. Behind the stage, strung up above the entrance, was an enormous banner reading Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, Grand Back to School Sale. Harry glanced around at the people in the audience and recognised many students from Hogwarts. Closer to the door, Harry spotted Hannah Abbott, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and Susan Bones from Hufflepuff. He met Susan's gaze and she gave him a little wave in greeting.  
  
Fred was currently standing on the stage holding a bright purple fedora, and George had knelt down next to him, attempting to talk a boy of about eight to reach into the hat and pull something out of it. The boy eyed George suspiciously but reached into the hat anyway. At first the boy looked confused, as if he couldn't find anything to grab in the hat, but then he pulled his arm back out and saw that his entire hand had been transfigured into a white rabbit. The crowd burst into raucous laughter, but the boy looked horrified. Before he could do anything, however, the rabbit disappeared in a cloud of purple smoke. When the smoke cleared, the boy's hand had returned to normal, without a trace of fur.  
  
George stood up and handed the hat to Fred as he faced the crowd. "Amuse your family and friends!" he shouted. "Buy our new Hat Hare! Only seventeen Sickles each!"  
  
Fred thrust the fedora at the boy, telling him he could keep it for being such a good sport, and the boy ran off the stage eagerly to show it to his friends.  
  
"Ooh! They should be careful," Hermione admonished. "They might really upset someone with their tricks."  
  
"What are you on about, Hermione?" Ron scoffed. "That was genius! I'm going to have to get one of those. Come on, Harry, let's go inside."  
  
"Harry! Ron!"  
  
Harry heard Seamus Finnigan's voice and turned to see him and Dean Thomas pushing through the crowd to the left of him, grins plastered over their faces.  
  
"You just missed it, mate," Dean said, snorting with laughter. "George talked Neville into trying out one of their jinxed hairbrushes onstage for 10% off all their products. His hair poufed up into a huge pompadour and he started singing some blues song, right there in front of everyone. It was brilliant."  
  
"Where is he now?" Ron asked, craning his neck over the crowd, apparently hoping to get a glimpse of Neville's hair.  
  
"I saw him go back into the store," Seamus said. "He's probably hiding until the jinx wears off."  
  
"Let's go on in ourselves," Ginny said, smiling at Dean, "before they rope us into trying something as well." The group of them pushed through the crowd to the shop's entrance, but stopped abruptly in the doorway in amazement.  
  
The walls were plastered with shelves of merchandise and stretched up twenty feet high to an arched ceiling, where several of Weasleys' Wizard Whiz-Bangs were flying around emitting sparks and occasionally dive bombing a customer or two. Tall, wooden ladders floated around here and there, so that customers could use them to reach items higher up. Ginny drifted off with Dean and Seamus towards the far end of the shop, which was dedicated entirely to baked goods. From where he stood, Harry could just make out a tray of Canary Creams.  
  
Harry, Ron, and Hermione took their time wandering through the aisles and looking at everything in awe. The shelves contained a variety of items that Harry never knew Fred and George could make, let alone mass-produce. In one section held all of their "fake" goods: fake wands that turned into different animals if you tried to use them, quills that wouldn't write but instead squirted ink everywhere, mirrors that only showed reflections of ghouls whenever anyone looked into them.  
  
Harry spotted the jinxed hairbrushes and combs that had obviously been used on Neville (attached was a label that read: Warning- Not for Muggle Use). He saw the invisibility hats the twins had showcased last year, except that now they had invisible gloves as well. There were also self-refilling Butterbeer bottles, ink charmed to change colours at random, sneezing powder, and exploding cauldrons. In the extensive candy section Harry not only found the expected Skiving Snack Boxes and Ton-Tongue Toffees, but there were also some new items such as bubble gum that produced real bubbles, and Peppermint Imps that caused one to breathe fire. He had just reached down to inspect a bag of multi-coloured Lizard Licorice Whips ("Watch your skin camouflage and change colours before your eyes!"), when he heard Ron give a whoop of laughter behind him. Harry turned to see Ron and Hermione doubled over in mirth, both wearing very familiar looking glasses and lightening-shaped scars on their foreheads.  
  
"What do you think, Harry?" George asked, as he and Fred walked up. "It's the Unofficial Harry Potter Kit."  
  
"We thought if everyone could have cool scars on their foreheads, they'd quit staring at yours," Fred added.  
  
"It's brilliant," Harry said, grinning at them.  
  
~*~  
  
An hour later, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny left the others at the joke shop and headed towards Florean Fortesque's ice cream parlour. They settled under an umbrella at a table outside, eating variously flavoured sundaes and chatting idly. Harry scooped up a particularly large amount of his butterscotch sundae with his spoon and ate it contentedly. Despite the almost empty streets, and the ominous presence of the many Aurors, it had been a good day. For a bit, while in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, he had almost been able to forget about Voldemort, Death Eaters, and Sirius. Almost.  
  
A shadow fell across their table and a drawling voice reached Harry's ears.  
  
"Well, what do we have here? It looks like the Terrific Threesome have added a fourth. What's the matter, Potter, the Mudblood and the Weasel weren't pathetic enough for you, so you had to settle for Tom Riddle's leftovers?"  
  
Harry jumped up, wand already raised, to face a leering Draco Malfoy, and was followed shortly by Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.  
  
"You'll want to watch your mouth, Malfoy," Harry hissed, leaning in so closely that their faces were almost touching. "I'd hate to accidentally rearrange your pointy face." Draco took a step back, but never lost the smug smile on his face.  
  
"Harry, do be careful," Ginny said calmly, placing a hand on his arm. "This ferret isn't worth doing magic outside of school."  
  
Harry was keenly aware of the crowd that was slowly gathering, despite the lack of shoppers that day.  
  
"Don't worry, Ginny. I think Malfoy here remembers from our last Quidditch match that I don't need a wand to get my point across, especially when he's missing his bullying bookends. Isn't that right, Malfoy?"  
  
A slight tint appeared high on Draco's cheekbones, but that was the only sign he was affected by the confrontation. "You're guarding the wrong hen, Potter. Do I have to keep reminding you that the Dark Lord goes after Mudbloods first? And their families."  
  
Draco stepped back again, watching their reactions to this statement with a look of satisfaction. Harry was roughly shoved aside as Ron pushed past him to grab Draco up by the front of his shirt. Ron was so much taller than he was that Draco's toes were barely scraping the ground.  
  
"What is that supposed to mean, Malfoy?" Ron growled. "Is that a threat?"  
  
"No, Weasley, that's a promise." With that statement, Draco wrenched himself free from Ron, turned on his heel, and walked briskly down the alley, brushing past an Auror that had started walking toward the group. Harry ignored the murmuring of the dispersing group of onlookers and turned to face his friends. Hermione had slumped back into her chair, white faced and shaking.  
  
"My parents. He was talking about my parents. I just know it. I should have expected something like this to happen. What am I going to do?"  
  
"I think you mean, what are we going to do," Ginny said kindly, kneeling down next to her and placing an arm around Hermione's shoulders. Harry and Ron exchanged dark looks, and Ron was about to speak when he was interrupted by a deep, male voice.  
  
"Someone needs to explain what just happened here."  
  
Harry jumped in surprise and looked around to face a familiar, tall, dark- skinned Auror. He opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Hermione who quickly explained what Malfoy had told them.  
  
Kingsley Shacklebolt nodded thoughtfully. "I see. You'd better give me your parents' name and address then." Hermione provided the information and he left quickly, promising that a team would be dispatched to her home, and that Hermione would receive an owl post when there was any news.  
  
"Lucky he was here, then," Ron said thoughtfully, and knelt down to comfort Hermione. "Don't worry, Hermione. Dad'll make sure your parents are protected. We'll figure out something, okay?"  
  
But Harry didn't think it was coincidence that a member of the Order happened to be on duty the day they went to Diagon Alley. He would've bet all the gold in Gringotts that Mr. Weasley had something to do with it. However, for once, he didn't mind being watched.  
  
Hermione was past being fearful for her parents, and had moved on to being angry. "I just don't understand why that git would even bother warning me! He's got to know that we'd go to the authorities with that information!"  
  
"Who knows what goes through his mind!" Ron exclaimed. "He's crazy, that one is. Probably tortures small animals for fun. Forget about Malfoy, Hermione. He's not worth it. We'd better get a move on though, it's almost dark, and Mum'll throw a wobbly if we're not back to the Leaky Cauldron before then."  
  
~*~  
  
It was a subdued dinner that night, held in one of the private dining areas in the back of the Leaky Cauldron. There were only eight of them that night since Mr. Weasley, Bill, and Charlie were all still at work. No one brought up the incident with Malfoy and Harry didn't want to be the first to break the silence at the dinner table. He wasn't even sure if Mrs. Weasley had found out or not. It wasn't until the four of them, Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione, were sitting in Ron's and Harry's room after dinner that they heard any news regarding Hermione's parents. An official-looking brown barn owl swooped in through the open window and dropped a roll of parchment into Hermione's lap before taking off again, not even waiting for a reply. Without saying a word Hermione tore into the scroll and read it aloud,  
  
Hermione,  
  
Your parents are safe for now and are being protected. See Professor  
McGonagall immediately upon your arrival to Hogwarts tomorrow evening.  
She will tell you the plan on keeping them safe. Try not to worry-  
everything is under control.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Arthur Weasley  
  
Minister of Magic  
  
Hermione reread the note, probably trying to read between the lines for any hidden meaning. Her face had still not regained its full colour and she looked exhausted, with dark circles under her eyes and her hair hanging limply around her face.  
  
"Well, that's a relief," Ron said, breaking the silence. "Wonder what they have planned?"  
  
"Dunno," Harry replied, wishing he could say something a little more helpful. He rarely saw Hermione truly upset, and what she was feeling now, Harry could probably guess. It was the same irrational guilt that Harry felt when putting others in danger j ust because of who he was. He couldn't help being the Boy Who Lived anymore than Hermione could help having Muggle parents. Harry knew from painful experience, however, that rational thinking only went so far when it came to the prospect of losing a loved one.  
  
It was Ginny who finally broke the silence. "Come on, Hermione. Let's go on to bed. The sooner we get to sleep, the sooner it will be tomorrow, and you can talk to McGonagall." Hermione nodded mutely, hugged Ron and Harry goodnight, and then followed the younger girl out of the room.  
  
A/N: Thanks for everyone's patience since it took a while for this next chapter to be posted. I apologize sincerely, hopefully it will never take so long to get a chapter out again. Life, liberty, and NaNoWriMo got in the way (Congrats, Livvie, for reaching 50,000 words!). I also started a Yahoo group to announce chapter updates. Please go here: , if you'd like to join. Chpt. 6 should be out soon (finally the group reaches Hogwarts!) as well. Happy reading!  
  
P.S. About the title-you'll see when they get to Hogwarts! 


	6. Wizarding Wireless Network

Chapter Six  
Wizarding Wireless Network  
  
Harry awoke early the next morning with light streaming in through the windows. He stretched lazily, and pulled a puffy feather pillow over his face to block out the sun, thinking to himself that he could get used to living the pampered life. He didn't think he'd ever slept in a bed as comfortable as this one in his entire life. From the sound of Ron's snores, he hadn't either. As his mind tried slowly to wake, he became more and more aware of a faint rustling noise coming from the other side of the room. Finally, a loud squawk brought him sitting straight up in bed.  
  
"Hedwig!" he cried aloud. Apparently, Hedwig and Pigwidgeon had been delivered back in their room sometime that morning. He walked quickly over to her cage sitting on his dresser, to let her out so that she could stretch her wings. She looked distinctively disgruntled, and Harry could tell by her glare that she did not care much for her grooming session. Indeed, when he opened the cage door, she immediately flew out and started flying in circles across the ceiling. Harry moved to open the next cage's door, allowing Ron's owl to fly out as well. Pigwidgeon, on the other hand, seemed delighted by the whole affair. He flew madly around the room and then settled on Ron's head, hopping up and down and twittering.  
  
"Gerroff, you stupid fluttering git!" Ron growled, rolling over and swinging at the small owl, which easily avoided his swipes and hooted even louder.  
  
Now that they were fully awake, Harry and Ron got dressed quickly. After a short time, they headed downstairs to breakfast, dragging their trunks behind them, creating loud thunks as they hit each stair.  
  
"How d'you think Hermione's holding up?" Harry muttered to Ron as they neared the parlour.  
  
"I dunno, but if something happens to her parents, I'm going to kill Malfoy. I swear it," Ron said, in a voice so menacing that Harry stopped in his tracks in the doorway and stared at Ron.  
  
"What are you looking at me like that for?" Ron asked.  
  
Harry opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by the bustling arrival of Mrs. Weasley.  
  
"Oh, boys- good, you're already up and dressed. The girls have just started eating. Do try to hurry, won't you? The ministry cars will be here in twenty minutes."  
  
They hurried through a breakfast of scones and weak tea before allowing Mrs. Weasley to usher them out the Muggle London entrance to the Leaky Cauldron, where a Ministry car was waiting for them. Harry recognised the same brown-haired Auror leaning nonchalantly against the car's side, waiting for them.  
  
"Okay, into the backseat, the lot of you- quickly now, I don't want to be out in the street any longer than necessary. Oh, hello, Silas. Good to see you again," Mrs. Weasley greeted the Auror as she sat in the front seat again. Harry lost what the Auror replied as the car door shut and they were off.  
  
~*~  
  
"On the count of three, then?" Ron said, as he and Harry prepared to pass the barrier at King's Cross Station.  
  
"Right," Harry replied. "One- two- three!" As Harry gave the countdown, he and Ron leaned casually against the barrier and slipped through.  
  
Almost immediately, Harry felt a wave of nostalgia overcome him as he was met with the familiar sights and sounds of Platform 9 ¾. Harry couldn't help smiling at the enormous black and scarlet steam engine that loomed before him. It was good to be back. His smile slipped somewhat as he remembered his trip to King's Cross last year. Sirius had been with him then.  
  
Mrs. Weasley had just finished hugging her children, and turned to face Harry. "Don't you worry yourself to death, now. You've had enough trouble to be going on with." She gave him a tight, motherly squeeze. Looking over Mrs. Weasley's shoulder, Harry was keenly aware of dozens of eyes upon him. Parents of the Hogwarts students who were milling about, saying goodbye to their children, had now turned to face him, whispering amongst each other.  
  
"Oi! Harry! You and Ginny find us a compartment. Here- take our trunks, will you? Hermione and I will join you after meeting with the other pref- ouch! I'm right behind you, Hermione. There's no need to get nasty." Hermione had seized a sleeve of Ron's shirt and was pulling him briskly to the train. No doubt she didn't want to be late to the first Prefect meeting of the school year.  
  
"C'mon, let's go in before Mum starts in on how I should be a prefect too," Ginny said in a low voice. They said their goodbyes to Mrs. Weasley, who cast a locomotor spell on the trunks before letting them head towards the train. Before they got very far, however, Harry was met with a rush of overeager witches and wizards calling out to him.  
  
"Harry Potter- is that really you?" a high, squeaky witch's voice reached his ear. He spun to his right and saw a tall, thick-necked witch, whose voice did not match her appearance at all.  
  
"Er-,"  
  
"It is! It is him!" yelled a portly man in a tweed cloak somewhere from his left. "Look at that scar. Can I touch it, Harry? You know, for good luck and all!"  
  
Harry jerked his head around, but before he could find the source of the voice, another reached his ears from behind him.  
  
"What can you tell us, Harry? What's going on with You-Know-Who? Our readers have a right to know, you know."  
  
Harry turned towards the familiar voice, and felt contempt wash over him as he recognised Rita Skeeter. He opened his mouth to give her a scathing reply, but she interrupted him.  
  
"What?" she said in a would-be innocent voice, baring her teeth in a forced smile. Harry thought it made her look like a hungry wolf. "It's thanks to you I got my job back at the Daily Prophet. I thought it was only fitting that I welcome you back to Hogwarts." She lowered her voice dramatically, "Not really, of course. But I thought your nosy friend Granger might be interested to know that I've recently become a registered Animagus." In a louder voice, she continued, "So what do you say, Harry? How about another exclusive interview, eh?"  
  
"Bugger off," he snarled, as he and Ginny, who had been telling off the people around them, attempted to push their way through the throng. Hands reached out to grab at him, and he could hear Hedwig squawking loudly at the offending people. The trunks knocked painfully against his back as people pushed to reach him.  
  
"Oh, is the little baby Potter angry? He doesn't like all the attention, no?" whispered another familiar female voice in his ear. "Set your half- blood to boiling?"  
  
This voice, however, was much different from Rita Skeeter's. This voice was deep and dark, and brought back terrible memories that Harry had fought to keep hidden these last few months. He whipped his head around, searching the faces of the crowd. He caught a glimpse of a black robe disappearing, and turned quickly in that direction- wand already raised- only to be blocked by a wall of people. One of their trunks floated in front of him, cutting off his line of vision. Someone clutched at the back of his robes and he could hear Ginny yelling at the surrounding people to back off. He broke out into a cold sweat and his scar began to throb painfully.  
  
"Alastor! Alastor!" Harry heard Mrs. Weasley's voice cry out above the crowd. Harry barely had time to register this when-  
  
"See here, what's going on?" Mad-Eye Moody growled, coming out of nowhere. He grabbed Harry's upper arm with one hand, and Ginny's with another, and propelled them towards the train, trunks bumping haphazardly behind them. Moody glared at the crowd with his magical eye, which was spinning bizarrely in all directions. The crowd shrank back under his stare, finally allowing Harry and Ginny to reach the train. Harry had never been so glad to see Moody in his life.  
  
"Wha- what are you doing here?" Harry gasped in surprise, the moment he had a chance to speak.  
  
"Boy, you know better than to think that Dumbledore is going to let you out in public with only Molly for protection. She's a good witch, but she can't prevent everything. He's got other members scattered throughout the platform watching out for you. We were supposed to stay hidden unless there was trouble; Dumbledore said he didn't want any more attention brought on you." Moody snorted at this last comment, his magical eye searching the crowd behind him. "Obviously, we needn't have bothered. Nowadays there's no way you're going to go unnoticed, not that you ever did before. Now- on the train, the both of you!" He pushed them up the ramp to the door of the train.  
  
"But-," Harry began.  
  
"In you go, boy, we've stood out in the open too long already. You never can tell who may be lurking in a crowd."  
  
"I know, that's what I'm trying to-,"  
  
"There you are then," Moody said, successfully ushering them through the door. "Hurry and find yourself a compartment. There's good lad. Mind you keep yourself out of trouble." With that, Moody swept back out of the train, into the crowd.  
  
Harry turned to Ginny, bewildered. "What was that all about? What was he in such a hurry for?" He realised he still had his wand out, and stuck it in his back pocket.  
  
"I don't know." Ginny said. They walked down the corridor a bit and she peered out the nearest window. "Oh! I see. look at what he's doing!"  
  
Harry joined her at the window and saw that Moody had cast some sort of shimmering barrier around the platform, only letting the students pass by him into the train one by one. He saw many adults try to force their way past, only to bounce back uselessly. Harry peered into the crowd, but could not see anyone else he recognised.  
  
"Ooh." Ginny breathed. "He's going to get into so much trouble. I'm sure he doesn't have authorisation for that."  
  
Harry snorted, pulling his head back from the window. "Oh, yeah, and who's going to punish him? Your dad?"  
  
Ginny gave a short laugh. "I forgot. How silly of me. Not that Mad-Eye ever bothers with anything so trivial as laws. Harry, what were you trying to tell him?"  
  
Now that he was standing under the bright, reassuring lights of the train, Harry suddenly felt unsure of what had really happened. For a minute, in the moment of chaos, he had thought he heard Bellatrix Lestrange's voice. How could she have been there, though? She would have been recognised, surely. Your scar did hurt, a little voice in his head replied.  
  
"It doesn't matter," he said instead. "C'mon, let's go on and get a compartment."  
  
Being relatively early, they were lucky enough to find an empty one, and stowed their trunks and cages in the overhead luggage rack.  
  
"Ahh. freedom," Harry said, stretching out on the seat opposite of Ginny, and propping his head up with his hand.  
  
She gave him an impish grin and said, "Shall we celebrate? MobiliOrchideous!" She waved her wand and instantly a dozen violet coloured flowers shot out of its tip, and floated lazily around the room.  
  
Harry cocked an eyebrow at her, and took his wand out of his back pocket. "You think that's something, Weasley? Try Avis!" He brandished his wand lazily, and several songbirds flew out to join the flowers circling around the ceiling.  
  
"Ha!" Ginny laughed. "Bulla Aureas!"  
  
"Papillious!"  
  
"Ornamentum!"  
  
They were laughing so hard, they didn't even hear the compartment door slide open.  
  
"Well, what do we have here? Is it playtime for the kiddies?" Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, scowling at them through a cloud of golden bubbles, which had chosen that moment to drift in front of his face. Harry was surprised to see that he was alone again.  
  
"Oh, Malfoy. You're just jealous because you don't have bubbles, butterflies, or birds floating in your compartment. I imagine the Slytherin carriage only carries skulls, poison, and dead animals," Ginny said flippantly.  
  
"Are you trying to be cute, Weasley? I'm surprised you would even recognise the term."  
  
"Don't you have somewhere to be? Like a prefects' meeting?" Harry said quickly, before Ginny could retort. He was in too good of a mood to have it ruined by the likes of Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Actually, Potter, the meeting doesn't start until the train leaves the station. But it's nice to know you care," Draco said snidely as he leaned casually against the doorframe. The train gave a jolt just then, as it started down the tracks.  
  
"Well, it's left the station now. So sod off."  
  
"What's the matter with you, Potter? Missing your dog?"  
  
"I SAID SOD OFF, MALFOY!"  
  
Harry felt anger coursing through him. How dare Draco Malfoy mention Sirius to him? Without warning, Malfoy flew off his feet, out of the compartment, and into the hall, the door sliding shut behind him with a bang. Harry met Draco's eyes from the other side of the glass pane and saw that the pale boy was picking himself off the ground and staring at Harry incredulously.  
  
"Harry? How did you do that?"  
  
"Huh?" Harry said, tearing his eyes away from Malfoy. "Do what?"  
  
"You did magic without using your wand."  
  
"Oh. yeah, I guess you're right. I don't know how I did it, but it seems to happen whenever I get really angry. Doesn't that happen to everyone, though?"  
  
"Sort of. " she said, looking hesitant.  
  
The door sliding open interrupted them again. This time, Dean, Neville, and Seamus walked in.  
  
"Hiya, Harry," Neville said cheerfully and sat down next to him. Harry was glad to notice that this year Neville had not brought his Mimbulus mimbletonia with him into their compartment. "What's going on in here? Why are all of these streamers flying about?"  
  
"Oh, Harry and I were just letting off a little steam," Ginny answered for him.  
  
"Well, did you let off steam on Draco Malfoy?" Dean asked, as he and Seamus sat next to Ginny. "We saw him leaving this compartment and he looked paler than normal- if you can believe that."  
  
"Oh, you know, he was being typical Malfoy," Harry replied quickly, hedging the question. He did not want Ginny to mention what had just happened. He spotted the rectangular box in Seamus's hand, and changed the subject. "What's that you're holding, Seamus?"  
  
"It's a birthday present from me Mam," Seamus said, grinning. "It's a Wizarding Wireless. It plays broadcast music from the Wizarding Wireless Network."  
  
"Like a Muggle radio," Dean explained.  
  
"Cool," Harry said. "Let's hear it then."  
  
They sat in silence for a while, listening to the music. Harry felt warm and peaceful, and was almost lulled to sleep by the gentle rocking of the train. Somewhere far away he heard Dean and Seamus arguing over the finer points of football versus Quidditch. He was vaguely aware as one tune ended, and he heard a voice announce that a song by the Weird Sisters and their new lead singer was coming on next. The music started back up and Harry closed his eyes, thinking about taking a nap.  
  
Then his scar prickled. He sat up and rubbed at his forehead, feeling very irritated. Why did it have to hurt now? Why did it have to hurt at all? He was sick and tired of having to worry about it. Harry looked around at the others, hoping for a distraction. Ginny was glaring out the window. He turned to Neville instead, who was also wearing a frown on his round face.  
  
"So, Neville, did you have a good holiday?" he asked the other boy stiffly.  
  
"I don't know what business it is of yours, Potter." Neville scowled at him, and folded his arms across his chest.  
  
"What's the matter with you?" Harry spat. He was just trying to be polite to the other boy, after all. Also, his scar hurt.  
  
"Maybe he doesn't like you being so nosy," Dean said.  
  
"ME, nosy? I-,"  
  
"Oh, shut up, Harry. Not everything is about YOU," Seamus yelled, and then turned to Dean. "You too. I've been listening to you jabber on all morning, and I'm SICK OF IT!"  
  
"You're one to talk, SEAMUS!" Ginny shrieked, standing up to face him. "Maybe I'M tired of hearing your stupid VOICE!"  
  
"GINNY- don't you DARE yell at SEAMUS," Harry roared back, jumping out of his seat. "He didn't do anything to YOU."  
  
"OH!" she screamed in frustration. "Don't tell ME what to do; you're just the BLOODY BOY WHO LIVED."  
  
"You didn't mind so much before, did you?" Neville hissed at her.  
  
Ginny opened her trunk and threw a textbook at Neville. Neville hurled it back with a loud grunt. Dean stood up and reached into the trunk as well. He grabbed a hairbrush and chucked it at Neville's head. Harry, in turn, opened his trunk and lobbed a pair of shoes at Dean. Seamus pulled a handful of Chocolate Frogs out of his pocket and pelted Harry with them. Harry reached for his wand, mouth already forming a curse-  
  
"IMPEDIMENTA!"  
  
Harry, Ginny, Dean, Neville, and Seamus were all thrown to the floor from the force of the spell. Harry landed on Seamus's Wizard Wireless and felt it crunch underneath him. The music stopped, and there was deadly silence in the compartment. The only thing Harry could move was his eyes and he forced them to look at the doorway. Hermione and Ron were standing there, both looking flabbergasted. Hermione had her wand in her hand.  
  
"In a moment you all will get up, apologise to each other, and act like rational human beings or I will put the full body bind on the lot of you!" she said in a steely voice.  
  
She waved her wand and said, "Finite Incantatum." Harry immediately was able to move his limbs again, and all of the magical items he and Ginny had conjured disappeared. The five of them picked themselves up off the floor, confused expressions on their faces.  
  
"How'd we get on the floor?" Neville asked.  
  
"No idea," Harry said, "but I landed on your Wireless, Seamus. Sorry about that." He handed the broken box to the sandy haired boy.  
  
"It's no problem, mate. Easily fixed. Reparo!" Seamus flicked his wand and the broken pieces flew back together. "I'll leave it off for now, though."  
  
"I don't understand," Ginny said. "Did the train stop suddenly?"  
  
"I don't know," Neville said in a bewildered voice. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "My head hurts."  
  
"Maybe it did, Ginny! Your trunk contents are strewn all over the floor," Dean said, looking around. "We'd better go check on our stuff; it's in the next carriage." He, Seamus, and Neville left, shutting the door behind them.  
  
"What are you playing at?" Ron said as soon as the others were gone, looking at Harry in disbelief.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean, when Hermione and I came in, you all were standing nose to nose, screaming at each other! Harry, you almost cursed Seamus!"  
  
"Come off it, no I didn't!" Harry said, laughing. He felt strangely exhilarant, as if a ton of weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "You're mad! We were just sitting here listening to music- weren't we, Ginny?"  
  
Ginny nodded vigorously; she too was wearing a wide grin. "Yeah! And then the next thing I knew, I was picking myself up off the floor, and- oh, goody. I'm starved!"  
  
Harry turned and saw that the plump witch with the food trolley had arrived. He jumped up enthusiastically and bought everyone a round of sweets.  
  
"Here ya go," he said cheerfully, dumping handfuls of candy into Ron, Hermione, and Ginny's laps. Ginny giggled merrily and popped a few of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans into her mouth, heedless of the various tastes. Harry sat down as well, munching happily on a pumpkin pasty. Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances.  
  
"Harry, Ginny, are you two sure you're all right? You seem a little off," Ron said hesitantly.  
  
Harry was humming to himself and looking out the window. "Mmh? Oh, yeah. Never better, in fact." Ginny sat twirling her hair around her finger, smiling absently, and didn't answer.  
  
No one talked for a while; it seemed there was nothing to say. Eventually, Harry felt the euphoria from earlier wear off, and now he was just tired.  
  
~*~  
  
He must have dozed off a bit because the next thing he knew, the sun was setting outside the window. Ginny was curled up like a cat, asleep in the seat next to him. Ron and Hermione were whispering together in low tones, sitting on the bench across from him. They had their heads bent low towards each other, and he could only catch part of the conversation.  
  
"-don't care what they say, Ron-,"  
  
"-wouldn't lie; they must not-,"  
  
Harry cleared his throat and sat up straight. Ron and Hermione jumped guiltily and looked at him.  
  
"What are you two talking about?"  
  
"Oh, nothing much, really, Harry. Prefect stuff. They're going to add to our duties a bit more this year. More patrolling of the halls and that kind of thing," Hermione replied swiftly. She was still looking at him strangely. "So, you don't remember anything odd happening this afternoon?"  
  
"Well, now that you mention it. You're not going to believe what happened outside the train today." He went on to tell them about the mob of people, seeing Rita Skeeter ("That Skeeter cow," Hermione huffed), and thinking he heard Bellatrix Lestrange's voice. After he finished, both Ron and Hermione were looked at him with a measure of disbelief.  
  
"But," Ron said, "she couldn't really have been there, could she? I mean, come on. There had to have been at least a dozen Aurors milling about."  
  
"You did tell Mad-Eye, didn't you, Harry?" Hermione asked, chewing on her bottom lip nervously. "The Order should know that she may be in the area. What if she tries to get into Hogwarts?"  
  
"Well, that's the thing. I started to, but, I dunno, he cut me off or something. When we get to Hogwarts, I can send an owl to. oh. Well, I guess I could tell Dumbledore."  
  
Hermione looked at him sadly. "Don't worry, Harry. We'll take care of it. We always do."  
  
Harry looked down and picked idly at a thread on his jumper cuff, unable to meet Hermione's eyes. He shook his head as if to clear it, and pulled out his wand to start practising wand movements when he heard loud voices coming down the outside corridor.  
  
"Whas' going on," Ginny mumbled sleepily, rising to a sitting position and rubbing her eyes. Harry and Ron looked at each other apprehensively and jumped up to look out the small window in the door.  
  
"It's Luna!" Harry exclaimed, thrusting the door back and stepping out the door, wand raised. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny quickly followed behind him.  
  
Luna Lovegood was backing down the corridor, holding her wand tightly in her fist, facing three Slytherins who were approaching menacingly. Harry knew that the tall, thin, brown-haired boy in the center was in their year, but blanked on a name. However, he immediately recognised the two ogres flanking him- Crabbe and Goyle.  
  
"Listen here, you freak," the boy in the middle hissed. "You tell your father to quit printing up lies in that pathetic paper of his, or you'll be paying the price."  
  
"Yeah," Crabbe grunted. Goyle said nothing, but furrowed his brows in what Harry could only imagine he thought was a threatening look. Harry thought it made him look constipated.  
  
For once, there was no dreamy look in Luna's eyes. She clenched her jaw stubbornly and raised her wand even higher. "The Quibbler does not tell lies. Your fathers are Death Eaters just as much as the Crumple-Horned Snorkack likes to hunt at night. That's not my fault."  
  
The boy in the middle spluttered wordlessly. Crabbe and Goyle just looked confused, which meant they looked about the same as they always did.  
  
"You'll answer for that, Loony Lovegood," the brown-haired boy growled, as they walked past Harry's compartment.  
  
Harry decided it was time to step in. "I think not," he said calmly, sliding the door open and stepping out behind the three Slytherins. They spun around to face four different wands pointing at their faces.  
  
"I know it's hard for you lot to count, so let me save you the suspense," Harry continued. "You're outnumbered, and outwitted. I believe, last year on the train, that Crabbe and Goyle here got a taste of what happens when you mess with me, or my friends. Did you enjoy being slugs? Ready for another go?"  
  
Crabbe and Goyle glared at him, but turned to look at the other boy questioningly.  
  
The third boy stared at Harry for a long moment, brown eyes so dark that they appeared black. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced," he said finally.  
  
"I'm Blaise Zabini," he went on in a cool voice, as if they were meeting at a formal dinner, and not facing down one another at the back of a school train. He stuck out a slender hand to shake Harry's.  
  
"I don't shake hands with Slytherins," Harry replied coldly.  
  
Blaise raised a silky brown eyebrow, but retracted his hand nonetheless. "Famous last words, Potter," he countered smoothly.  
  
Harry felt a hand on his arm and turned to face Hermione, who looked edgy. "Let's just go back in the compartment, Harry, okay? Luna, you come with us," she said to the blonde girl.  
  
"Potter, you got a bossy girlfriend," Goyle chortled, apparently thinking he said something hilarious. Blaise rolled his eyes, and shook his head in disbelief.  
  
"Oh shut up, Goyle," Luna said, pushing past the three of them to join Harry and the rest. "You look like a baboon's backside." With that, she burst into a loud peal of mirth that made them all jump, and strolled into the compartment. After a split second, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny joined in on her laughter, turned their backs on the three Slytherins, and followed Luna through the doorway.  
  
~*~  
  
There wasn't much time left before the train reached Hogsmeade station, so once they entered the compartment they began changing into their school robes.  
  
"What was that all about?" Ron asked Luna, putting his robes over his jeans and slightly worn jumper.  
  
Luna, who was already in her robes, shrugged nonchalantly. "Daddy's just been printing articles about different Death Eaters and their plans to take over the world." She fiddled absently with one of her large earrings that looked, to Harry, like a large white chess piece. "If Blaise's father didn't want people to know that he consorts with vampires he shouldn't have bought all of those Nargles." She sniffed disdainfully at Mr. Zabini's apparent stupidity.  
  
"Urg," Ron said, looking bewildered. He turned to Hermione for help. She had just finished pulling on her own robes, and the static made her hair frizz more than usual.  
  
Hermione frowned at him, then said to Luna in a consoling voice, "Well, whatever the reason, they had no reason to corner you like that. Imagine! Three against one!"  
  
She leaned forward and glanced out the dark window, squinting at something in the distance. "I think I can see the lights of Hogsmeade. Ron, we'd better go on up to the prefects' carriage."  
  
She and Ron finished pinning their badges on and left, heading toward the front of the train. Harry, Ginny, and Luna looked at each other.  
  
"How come we always end up carrying their stuff?" Ginny asked plaintively.  
  
Harry shook his head resignedly and stared out the window towards the glowing lights of Hogwarts. 


	7. Faithful Daughter

Chapter Seven  
Faithful Daughter  
  
As the Hogwarts Express slowed down, Harry, Ginny, and Luna gathered up Hedwig, Pigwidgeon, and Crookshanks, and filed out into the corridor with the other students. The train came to a shuddering stop and the doors slid open, causing a scrum with the students in their hurry to exit the train and reach the castle. Harry waited impatiently with the others as the mass of chattering and laughing students slowly emptied the train. Finally, it was their turn and Harry practically bounded down the steps. He shuddered as a wave of icy air hit his face. It was an uncommonly cold night for September, and Harry found himself wishing he had grabbed a cloak from his trunk before leaving the train.  
  
He turned, and realised he had lost Luna and Ginny somewhere in the crowd. Standing on his tiptoes to look for them above the heads of the other students, the lights of Hogsmeade caught his eye. Harry clutched Hedwig's cage in his arms tightly as he recognised the looming shadow of the Shrieking Shack. That was where I first met Sirius, he thought to himself sadly. He shivered again, but this time, it had nothing to do with the cold. How long ago that seemed, in some ways, but in others, not nearly long enough. Harry's throat constricted tightly, and he blinked his eyes rapidly as the lights swam before his eyes. He cast his mind about frantically for something else to think about, he couldn't afford to breakdown— not now, not yet.  
  
"Firs' years over here... firs' years..."  
  
"Hagrid! Hey, Hagrid!" Harry shouted, as he ran towards the half-giant. His heart felt lighter already at the sight of Hagrid's friendly face.  
  
"All righ' there, Harry?" Hagrid asked, beaming down him.  
  
"I'm... okay," Harry replied. "How's Grawp?"  
  
"Shh! Keep yer voice down!" Hagrid admonished him, in a booming voice loud enough to make several first years turn around in alarm. Hagrid glanced over Harry's shoulder and Harry turned to see Ginny and Luna approaching.  
  
"Listen," Hagrid said. "You lot come down to m' cabin this weekend, an' we'll talk then. You go on up to the castle now. It's freezin' out and it wouldn' do fer you ta catch a cold."  
  
"Hi, Hagrid," Ginny said a bit breathlessly, as she and Luna caught up with them. She turned to speak to Harry. "Ron and Hermione already have a coach saved for us. Hermione says to hurry so she can get to the castle and speak to Professor McGonagall."  
  
"Oh, right! We'll see ya, Hagrid," Harry said, waving goodbye to Hagrid, who looked slightly confused.  
  
He followed Ginny and Luna over to a waiting coach, with its Thestral waiting patiently for them to arrive. On impulse, he stuck out his hand and patted the head of the winged horse, earning him odd looks from several students who were milling about.  
  
"Where have you been?" Hermione demanded edgily from the carriage, her voice sharper than usual.  
  
"Sorry, Hermione," Harry said, abashed, and climbed in after her. He had forgotten all about her meeting with McGonagall once they arrived at the castle.  
  
They rode up to the castle in a tense silence punctuated only by Luna's absent-minded humming. The tune sounded familiar to Harry, but he couldn't quite put his finger on where he had heard it before.  
  
The coach pulled up to the castle and they all jumped out, following Hermione quickly up the stone steps. Once they entered the large wooden doors, Harry saw immediately that Professor McGonagall was waiting for them.  
  
"Miss Granger, if you'll come with me?" she said, not unkindly.  
  
"Oh, yes, Professor," Hermione replied, a bit breathlessly, walking towards the stern teacher. Harry and Ron both made a move to follow her, but stopped short by a sharp look from Professor McGonagall.  
  
"I believe, Mr. Weasley and Mr. Potter that the Great Hall would be in the other direction? I suggest you take a seat before it fills up. Miss Granger will join you shortly."  
  
"Yes, Professor," Harry and Ron mumbled in unison, as Professor McGonagall turned, and ushered Hermione down the long hallway.  
  
They turned and walked back to Ginny and Luna, who were waiting for them in front of the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry and Ron followed the girls into the Hall, and Luna turned back to walk next to Harry.  
  
"Have you thought any more about it?" she said in a low voice.  
  
"More about what?" he whispered back, distracted by trying to follow Ron through the crowd to the Gryffindor table.  
  
"Whatever's behind that veil, of course."  
  
"What?" he asked, startled, and almost ran into Ron, who had stopped to sit at their table, saving an empty seat on either side of him. Harry searched Luna's silver, protuberant eyes imploringly, not noticing when Ginny left them to go sit next to Dean.  
  
"You do want to talk to your godfather again, don't you?" she replied in a tone of voice that suggested he was being difficult on purpose. Harry sat down abruptly, his legs suddenly unable to hold his weight up. She couldn't mean it, could she? Did she know how to contact the... dead?  
  
Luna sat on the other side of Ron, in the seat he was obviously saving for Hermione, and leaned across him to talk to Harry.  
  
"You know, I've been thinking—"  
  
"What ARE you doing?" Ron interrupted her rudely. "This isn't your table. Go sit with the Ravenclaws."  
  
Luna sat back and blinked. She looked around at him, unperturbed, as always, by Ron's lack of manners.  
  
"Well, Ronald, Harry and I were talking. I was tired of standing, so I sat down, you see."  
  
"But, but— you, you're not a Gryffindor," Ron spluttered indignantly. You can't sit here throughout the feast. It's not right! It, well, you know... unnatural."  
  
Luna shrugged. "I hardly see what the problem is. We're all friends, right? It's not a school rule that students sit with their houses, after all. However, if you want, I can go. Have a nice evening, then." With that, she rose and glided over to the Ravenclaw table to sit next to some other fifth year students. Harry glared at Ron, but he had turned his attention back to the empty gold plates in front of him. He looked as if he was trying to will food to appear on them.  
  
Harry heard someone sniff disapprovingly, and looked up to see Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil sitting across from him, both staring reproachfully at Luna's retreating back.  
  
"Honestly," Lavender huffed. "Who does she think she is, sitting here like that?"  
  
"Really," Parvati agreed, crossing her arms across her chest.  
  
"I think she's great," Harry said stubbornly, and saw out of the corner of his eye Ginny watching the transaction with interest.  
  
"Oh, Harry, you can do better than her," Lavender said, misinterpreting his comment. "If you're looking for a girlfriend, I can tell you several, more qualified candidates." She and Parvati burst into a fit of giggles, and he saw Ginny turn away with disgust written all over her face.  
  
"I— what?!" Harry stammered, feeling his face grow red all the way up to his ears. He turned, horrified, to look at Ron, who had unfortunately been broken out of his staring contest with the plates, and was now doubled over in laughter.  
  
"You're no help," Harry muttered darkly, wanting to disappear under the table. Fortunately, he was saved further embarrassment by the arrival of Professor Sprout carrying a three-legged stool and the Sorting Hat, and placing them at the front of the room. Harry assumed Professor McGonagall was still busy talking to Hermione. Professor Sprout bustled back out of the Hall, and returned quickly with a line of first years behind her.  
  
"Shorter this year, aren't they?" Ron commented as the students filed in.  
  
"Ron, not everyone was as tall as you were in your first year," Harry said, remembering how small he was when he entered Hogwarts.  
  
"No, I mean— the line of students; it's shorter this year."  
  
Harry looked closely and saw that Ron was right; there were significantly less new students than last year's group.  
  
He sighed. "I bet a lot of parents didn't want their kids coming to Hogwarts this year, because of everything with Voldemort." He remembered how, last year, Seamus's mum almost didn't let him come back to school because of all the lies printed by the Daily Prophet.  
  
"They're mad!" Ron said incredulously, his blue eyes earnest. "Everyone knows there's no place safer than Hogwarts!"  
  
"Is it still, though?" Harry murmured to himself. He was beginning to feel that anywhere he was, was a dangerous place. He didn't blame parents for wanting to keep their children away from him. As long as Voldemort was after him, no one around him was safe.  
  
A silence fell over the hall, and everyone looked at the Sorting Hat expectantly. After a moment, the rip in its brim opened, and it began to sing:  
  
Another year has come and gone,  
  
Another plan gone wrong.  
  
I want to remind you students, dear,  
  
So come and lend me your ear.  
  
I said before, and I'll say again,  
  
Even if in vain—  
  
'Tis the time to join as one,  
  
For our task is not yet done.  
  
Still at large, an evil haunts,  
  
Let us deny him what he wants.  
  
For discord and enmity is his power,  
  
In the growing darkest hour.  
  
So, listen closely, students dear.  
  
Your time of choice grows ever near.  
  
Will you take the road that's true?  
  
Or is it the easy road for you?  
  
Whatever your choice, students dear,  
  
In the Sorting have no fear.  
  
For in each House there is something good,  
  
Even in the most misunderstood.  
  
In brave Gryffindor, you'll find a friend,  
  
Who will stick by you to the end.  
  
In cunning Slytherin, there lie the kinds  
  
Of folk with ambitious minds.  
  
In clever Ravenclaw, the smartest dwell,  
  
They know every spell.  
  
In warm Hufflepuff you'll greet,  
  
The kindest folk one hopes to meet.  
  
Even so, I hold to this:  
  
Without a friend from each you'll miss,  
  
A bond that can't be broken,  
  
Join together now, my Houses, the Sorting Hat has spoken.  
  
The Great Hall rang with applause. Ron turned to Harry and growled, "Misunderstood? If that Hat is talking about Slytherin... I think we understand all we need to know about that lot."  
  
Harry silently agreed, but did not answer because the Sorting had begun. However, after the first few students were Sorted, his mind started to wander and he found himself staring at the staff table. As usual, Dumbledore sat in the middle, applauding politely for each student. There was an empty chair next to Dumbledore that Harry knew belonged to McGonagall. Sitting next to the empty chair was a young, flaxen-haired woman that Harry had never seen before.  
  
He stared at her, and realised she must be the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The woman must have felt his eyes on her for she turned her head and looked straight into his eyes. Before he could turn away, she pulled a grotesque face at him, making him jump in surprise. Then, before his eyes, her nose changed from a small, button size, to a large hawk- shaped one, and then back again. Harry burst out laughing, then clamped a hand over his mouth to stifle the sound as several students turned to glare at him. He glanced quickly up at the teacher's table, to see if any of them had noticed his outburst. Only Dumbledore glanced in his direction, a smile playing around his mouth.  
  
"What are you on about?" Ron hissed. "Have you gone mad?"  
  
Harry shook his head wordlessly, not trusting himself to speak. Instead, he pointed up at the new woman sitting at the head table.  
  
"Who's that? Is she the new—," Ron's sentence broke off as the witch lowered her head, and surreptitiously changed her nose to a beak and back again.  
  
Ron turned and looked wide-eyed at Harry, who grinned.  
  
"Tonks."  
  
"D'you think she'll make us call her 'Professor'?" Ron asked, after swallowing an alarming mouthful of potato. He grinned, "I'll bet she doesn't give us any homework!"  
  
"Don't be silly, Ron, of course she will," Hermione admonished, looking scared, nonetheless, at the idea of a teacher not giving homework. She and Professor McGonagall had appeared right after Dumbledore's words of welcome.  
  
"I don't care how much work she gives us," Harry said. "She's going to be brilliant. She's already been through Auror training and everything!"  
  
Hermione sighed in contentment. "It will be nice to have a proper Defense professor again. I do wonder whatever happened to Professor Umbridge?"  
  
"Who cares, Hermione? If I never think about her again, it will be too soon." Ron snorted into his pumpkin juice.  
  
"I believe," came the voice of Nearly Headless Nick, "that the Ministry has relocated her to filing room of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."  
  
Harry turned to see Nearly Headless Nick floating a few feet off the ground behind them.  
  
"How do you know?" he asked curiously.  
  
"One hears things, as a ghost at Hogwarts. I don't think she is doing very well, however. Something about being afraid to touch any document relating to Centaurs. Odd woman." With that said, Nearly Headless Nick floated off towards the end of the table where a few bewildered looking first years sat.  
  
Hermione tittered into her hand. "Oh, how appropriate! That old hag. See how she likes non-humans now!"  
  
Ron grinned evilly at her. "Just think, Hermione. If you try to promote spew outside of Hogwarts, you'll get to work in the same department as Umbridge!"  
  
Hermione's smile was replaced by a glare faster than Harry could blink. She open her mouth to reply, but was (fortunately for Harry, who was bracing himself for another blazing row) interrupted by Dumbledore standing at the Head table.  
  
"Before your food settles, and sleep sets in, I beg you all to listen for a few minutes to an old man's rambling," Dumbledore said pleasantly, looking around at all four tables.  
  
"Older students, bear with me for the usual start-of-term announcements. Mr. Filch wishes me to remind you all that magic is not allowed in the corridors between classes. He would also like me to inform you that the list of prohibited magical items have been broken down into two separate pieces of parchment on his office door-- the second of which is dedicated to items bought exclusively from Weasley's Wizard Wheezes."  
  
Dumbledore coughed politely at this; Harry thought it sounded suspiciously like a laugh.  
  
"Also, I want to strongly urge all of you to stay away from the Forbidden Forest. Never before has it been filled with such perils, and if you all wish to keep your limbs intact, you will do best to keep your distance," he continued, looking pointedly at the Gryffindor table.  
  
Harry glanced up in alarm, and saw Hagrid shift uncomfortably down at his end of the head table. He exchanged worried glances with Ron and Hermione before turning his attention back to Dumbledore.  
  
"Now, I am happy to say, and I'm sure that you all will agree, that we have a brand new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. I am pleased to say that Miss Nymphadora Tonks will be taking over the position this year."  
  
Tonks smiled at the deafening round of applause that greeted this announcement, but Harry could tell she knew it was mostly in celebration for the permanent departure of Professor Umbridge.  
  
Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat before continuing. "You will also be interested that Quidditch trials will be held a week from today. That is all, thank you for your patience, and good night!"  
  
"I'm going to go talk to Tonks," Harry pronounced as they stood up to leave the Great Hall.  
  
"Ooh, good idea, me too," Ron agreed enthusiastically.  
  
"Ron!" Hermione groaned. "Honestly, why did you even accept being a prefect? We need to help the other prefects round up the first years."  
  
"Oh, right," Ron said, looking disappointed and turning to Harry. "Password's Fidelius, they told us on the train."  
  
"Thanks," Harry said, "I'll catch up with you later."  
  
He wound his way through the crowd, proving to be more difficult than he anticipated due to the mass of students walking the opposite direction. He had just surged through the largest group, when he tripped and nearly fell over another student.  
  
"Oof! Sorry...," Harry said, and then looked to see whom he had almost knocked over. Large, dark eyes met his and he flushed with recognition. "Oh. Hi, Cho."  
  
"Hello, Harry," she said a bit breathlessly. They looked at each other uncertainly.  
  
"I--,"  
  
"I--," they said simultaneously, and it was Cho's turn to blush.  
  
"You first," Harry said, a touch distractedly, as he scanned over the heads of the remaining students to where Tonks was sitting next to Hagrid, and the far end of the head table. Tonks met his eye and he gave her a wave before turning to face Cho, who was looking increasingly uncomfortable.  
  
"I, er, just wanted to apologise for how I acted last year. I was terribly unfair to you—."  
  
"Oh! Right," Harry said, surprised. "Well, listen, don't worry about it okay? I'll see you later?" He started backing away towards the head table, and had turned to go, when she called out to him.  
  
"Wait— Harry!"  
  
"Yeah?" he paused, looking at her.  
  
"What were you going to say?"  
  
"Oh that. It was nothing, honest." He smiled at her and walked away. He had been going to say that he didn't have time to talk, but now didn't want to hurt her feelings. Shaking his head wryly, he continued on to the head table where Tonks paused in her animated conversation with Hagrid to grin at him.  
  
"Wotcher, Harry."  
  
"Hi Tonks! Er, I mean, Professor?"  
  
"Just Tonks will do for now, Harry. All that 'Professor' business makes me feel old. It's great to see you, how have you been?"  
  
"Oh... you know, the same." Harry replied, deftly avoiding the question. "How long have you known about teaching here?"  
  
"Not long at all, actually! Found out last week, as a matter of fact. Very exciting, though. I'm thinking of getting some fellow Aurors to come and talk for a lesson or two. What do you think?"  
  
"Ooh... that'd be great!"  
  
Tonks leaned forward conspiratorially and whispered, "Kingsley told me what that nasty Malfoy boy said about Hermione's parents. You tell her not to worry, we'll get 'em first."  
  
"Right, I will! Well, I guess I'd best be getting back up to the tower. G'night!" Harry said all of this hurriedly, having been reminded that Hermione was supposed to tell them what McGonagall said.  
  
"Before you go, Harry," said a serene voice from his right. "I'd like to have a word."  
  
Harry turned to see the smiling face of Albus Dumbledore looking at him. He gulped. Talks with Dumbledore were rarely something he equated with good news.  
  
Dumbledore looked at him kindly. "No need to look as if you spotted a blast-ended skrewt, Harry. I merely wanted to ask you to stop by my office after dinner, tomorrow night."  
  
"Okay...," Harry said hesitantly. "What for?"  
  
Dumbledore smiled again, blues eyes twinkling reassuringly. "Best not talk about it here, Harry. Nothing to be worried about, just something I thought you might be interested in doing. Now go on up to bed before it gets too late. I daresay you, Mr. Weasley, and Mrs. Granger will be up long enough talking."  
  
Harry flushed. "Right. Tomorrow then." And turned walked quickly out of the Hall, before Dumbledore could add anything else. He made his way to Gryffindor tower as quickly as he could, his heart beating unnaturally fast. 'What could Dumbledore possibly want from him? No more bad news, he chanted silently to himself. He didn't think he could handle anything else at the moment, and wondered briefly if St. Mungo's had a ward especially for stressed out adolescent boys.   
  
He mumbled the password dully as he reached the Fat Lady's portrait, not even looking up from the ground.  
  
"Well, hello to you too," the Fat Lady said, sounding affronted. "Have a nice summer then?"  
  
"No," Harry said grumpily, wanting nothing more to crawl into his comfortable four-poster and pull the covers over his head.  
  
"Teenagers," the Fat Lady sighed, and opened up to reveal the Gryffindor common room.  
  
He crawled into the common room, eyes blinking to adjust to the dim light. Most of the students were tired from the day's journey, and had retired early to bed, so the fire had been allowed to burn down to embers.  
  
Harry spotted Ron and Hermione sitting in fluffy, overstuffed armchairs in one of the darker corners of the room, with their heads bent together. He headed over to them but then stopped suddenly in his tracks. What if they were having a... private moment. He gulped; he definitely didn't want to intrude on that. Harry hesitated, standing the middle of the room, not sure of what action to take. He had finally settled on walking over to them, making as much noise as possible, so as to not surprise them, when a voice sounded low in his ear.  
  
"What's the matter, Potter? Forget your way around the common room already?" Harry jumped and turned to see Ginny standing behind him, smirking. "Paranoid much? I was just wondering if you were planning on standing here all night, or if we can go on over to Ron and Hermione and find out what McGonagall said?"  
  
Harry paused, not sure if to tell Ginny why exactly he was standing in the middle of the common room. She must've read the look on his face, because she laughed suddenly.  
  
"Oh Harry, really. They're not going to be snogging in the middle of the common room. At least, not until everyone else goes to bed." She grinned wickedly, and headed off towards Ron and Hermione, leaving Harry no choice but to follow her. He glanced around the common room briefly, and spotted Dean Thomas watching him closely before walking up the stairs to the boys' dorm with Seamus.  
  
Harry turned his attention back to Ron and Hermione, and could tell, even in the darkened common room, that whatever Hermione had told Ron, he was not happy about it at all. His lips were pressed together tightly, and the tips of his ears were pink, contrasting horribly with his red hair.  
  
"Ron, be reasonable, it's the only way," Hermione was pleading as they walked up, leaning forward towards Ron with a beseeching look in her eyes. Harry and Ginny exchanged concerned glances, before pulling up chairs to join them.  
  
"What's up?" Harry asked once he sat down, looking back and forth between the pair.  
  
Ron just leaned back in his armchair, scowling, and crossed his arms stubbornly. Hermione sighed. "Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore have come up with a plan to keep my parents safe." Ron snorted derisively, but said nothing.  
  
"Well-- what is it?" Harry practically shouted. He was on edge to begin with, and this was certainly not helping.  
  
"They want me to perform a Fidelius Charm on my parents, so that only muggles and I can ever find them."  
  
He heard Ginny draw in a short breath, but he didn't see what the big deal was.  
  
"Well... that's good, isn't it? They'll be protected, and you won't have to worry."  
  
"That's right," Hermione said, smiling faintly, "but--,"  
  
"But she could be killed in the process," Ron spat.  
  
"What?!" Harry gasped. Hermione rolled her eyes.  
  
"Ron," she said, a hint of warning in her voice. "I think you're being a bit dramatic, don't you?"  
  
"ME, DRAMATIC?" Ron yelled. "WHEN AM I EVER DRAMATIC?"  
  
Harry groaned and slid further down in his chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He could feel a headache coming on.  
  
"You see, Harry, the Fidelius Charm is dangerous in several small ways," Ron said sarcastically, in a dead-on impersonation of Hermione when she was lecturing them.  
  
"Firstly," Ron continued, in a deadly sweet voice, ignoring Hermione's glares. "It drains some of the Secret-Keeper's magical resources continuously."  
  
"Ron—," Hermione started.  
  
"SECONDLY...," Ron spoke over her, raising his voice to new levels.  
  
Harry exchanged a worried glance with Ginny, and then settled himself in for a long evening.  
  
Breakfast the next morning came far too early for Harry's liking. He didn't know what time he, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny finally went to bed the night before, but it felt like only minutes since he put his head down that it was time to get up again. Neville and Seamus seemed much too chipper to be allowed, chattering loudly about the upcoming Quidditch tryouts. Dean, however, was as quiet as he and Ron, and Harry wondered briefly if Dean had trouble sleeping last night as well.  
  
He pulled on his robes quickly, not bothering to comb his hair, then joined Ron in walking down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Ginny and Hermione were already situated at the Gryffindor table. Ginny, sitting across from Hermione, was deep in conversation with Dean, and didn't look up as they approached. Hermione smiled at them at they sat down next to her, but her eyes were red and swollen. Harry couldn't tell if it was from crying or lack of sleep.  
  
Yawning deeply, he reached across the table and pulled a bowl of porridge towards himself. Without paying much attention to what he was doing, he wearily began eating the cereal, his mind far up in the Gryffindor Tower and thinking of how comfortable his bed would be about now.  
  
He was brought out of his reverie by the sound of hundreds of wings flapping, signaling the arrival of owl post. Looking up, he saw a large brown owl drop The Daily Prophet in front of Hermione before flying off brusquely, nearly knocking over Neville's pumpkin juice in the process.  
  
"Steady on, Neville," Ron said, grabbing the back of the other boy's robes as he jumped, and nearly fell off the bench.  
  
Hermione grabbed the paper and unrolled it quickly, eyes scanning rapidly across the front page.  
  
Harry peered over her shoulder and saw a color photo of him and Ginny trying to escape the crowd at King's Cross. He rolled his eyes.  
  
"What rubbish does Rita have to say about me this time?" he asked, resignedly. "Now that she's registered her Animagus status, you don't think she'll spill the beans on you keeping her in a jar, do you, Hermione?"  
  
"Nah," Ron said, waving a hand dismissively. "I expect she'd be too embarrassed to tell anyone about that. Rightly so, if you ask me."  
  
Hermione raised her eyebrows at Ron, but turned to Harry instead. "No, Harry, Rita won't say anything about that. Even if she is registered now, it was still illegal for her to sneak onto Hogwart's grounds back in our fourth year. All she says about you is that you looked shifty, and avoided all of her questions at King's Cross. Hmm... She also says that it's your duty 'to the readers' to tell everything you know about You-Know- Who, etc., etc."  
  
Harry snorted. "I have told them all I know. Well, almost, anyway. Besides, her precious readers weren't too keen on hearing what I had to say last year, now were they?"  
  
Hermione shrugged as if to say, 'Well, what else do you expect?' and went back to perusing the front page. It was only a few seconds later, however, before she drew in a long breath, and motioned for Harry and Ron to lean in closer. "Listen to this," she said, and read in a low voice:  
  
Random Violence Baffles Ministry  
  
Ministry officials are befuddled today after a fresh round of random acts of violence occurred again yesterday at precisely six o'clock in the evening, BST. These outbreaks have pitted neighbors against neighbors, coworkers against coworkers, friends against... well you get the idea. Seemingly unconnected incidents, except for the fact that they happen simultaneously, have occurred across Great Britain. "It's like everyone's gone mad!" says one Matilda Merpipe, of Harrogate. "There I was, just minding my own business, out in my garden, you see. The next thing I know, that crazy French bat from next door comes charging over and hits me over the head with my own watering can. The nerve, I tell you! Furriners, you can't trust 'em. I say we toss the lot of 'em out and be done with it." As of press time, Ministry officials have been unavailable for comment.  
  
Hermione let her voice trail off, and pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Something about this is just not right," she said matter-of-factly. "I have a hard time believing that these attacks are really random at all. There has to be a common factor! If I could just..."  
  
However, what she was about to say was lost as Professor McGonagall approached with their schedules.  
  
"Oh, no," Harry said, glancing down at his slip of parchment. "It's Potions first off. What a way to start the year."  
  
"Too right," Ron moaned. "And Transfiguration after that, although Herbology shouldn't be so bad... At least it's Friday, and we've got the weekend to look forward to."  
  
Hermione sniffed. "I can't see what you two have to complain about. You've only got three classes a day now; I'm still taking four a day."  
  
"Well, that's your mistake, now isn't it," Ron said cheekily as they got up to walk to class.  
  
"Hang on," Harry said, after inspecting his schedule closer. "This doesn't tell who we're sharing classes with. You don't reckon it's just going to be us Gryffindors, do you?"  
  
"Don't be silly," Hermione said, as they wound their way through students to the dungeon. "We're all mixed up now that we're in our NEWT level classes. Sixth and seventh year students have more specified schedules, so of course there will be smaller classes. No need to limit each class to only two houses."  
  
"Well this should be interesting, then," Ron said, as they entered the Potions classroom.  
  
Harry scanned the room quickly, looking for empty seats. He spotted Dean Thomas already sitting towards the back of the class and headed towards him. Just as he reached the table, a figure darted in front of him and slid in next to Dean. Harry blinked. Smiling up at him was Blaise Zabini.  
  
"Hello, Harry," he said smoothly. "Why don't you join us?"  
  
Harry looked bewildered at Dean, and then turned Ron, who shrugged. "Forget it mate, we'll just grab seats at another table."  
  
Harry glanced around the classroom, but saw few empty chairs. Before he could decide, Snape came swooping in the room, in his usual foul temper.  
  
"Potter! Granger! Weasley! I suggest you find some seats immediately before I have to take points off of Gryffindor already for pure idiocy." The hair on the back of Harry's neck prickled at the mere sight of the potions professor. It was the first time he had been this close to Snape since his Occlumency lesson last year. Scowling, he plopped down in the seat next to Blaise. Ron and Hermione sat quickly a few tables away with Hufflepuffs Justin Finch-Fletchley and Susan Bones.  
  
"Splendid," Blaise said, flashing a toothy grin. Harry wanted to retort back, but thought better of it after catching Snape's glare. He settled by exchanging wary looks with Dean instead.  
  
"Today starts the first of your NEWT level classes," Snape began in his oily, sneering voice. "Most of you," he began, smirking at Draco Malfoy, who Harry had just noticed sitting at the front of the room with Pansy Parkinson, "are here because of your exceptional talent in potion making. There are, however, a few of you here because the Headmaster has been lenient." This time, he glared pointedly at Harry, who felt his face go warm. "Make no doubt about it, those of you who are here for anything less than skill alone, will be expected to keep up with the rest of the class, or face my extreme displeasure."  
  
Harry could hear Draco and Pansy laughing heartily from the front of the room, and Harry felt his face was now on fire. However, he refused to let his embarrassment show any further, and sat up straight and proud. He heard Blaise, "Tsk" next to him, and then turned to whisper in Harry's ear.  
  
"Don't worry about Snape, he's harmless. If you need tutoring, I'll help you."  
  
"I. Don't. Need. Tutoring," Harry growled through clenched teeth. "Especially from some slimy Slytherin. And don't talk to me about Snape."  
  
"Suit yourself," Blaise said, in a pleasant sounding voice, and turned his attention back to the front.  
  
"Now," Snape continued. "Today we will be covering a very advanced potion; so advanced that some never manage to make it properly. Open up your books to the section regarding Invisibility Potions, and when you feel like you have read enough that you won't kill yourself in the process of making the potion, the brewing instructions are on the board. I expect a sample vial from each student at the end of class. You may begin."  
  
Harry's interest was piqued from the mention of an Invisibility Potion. Now this was a potion he could use. His cloak was almost too small to hide him, Ron, and Hermione now. He looked around and exchanged glances with Hermione, who seemed to be thinking the same thing.  
  
Harry pulled out his book, but found he had trouble concentrating. His thoughts kept reverting to the events of last year, and he found himself watching Snape as he walked between the rows of desks, glaring at students as he went. He caught Snape's eye and immediately bent his head over his book and attempted to read the passage in front of him.  
  
The Invisibility Potion is one of the most brilliant discoveries of our time. Created by alchemist Hans von Gottlieber in 1947, it reinvented means of stealth and warfare used by the Ministry in the war against the dark wizard Grindewald... that rotten Snape, I bet he uses the Invisibility Potion all the time to spy on people... In fact, unless a wizard is clumsy enough to reveal himself, the only known way to intercept the potion's use is to detect the invisible person through means of Legilimency... stupid Occlumency, stupid Voldemort, stupid SNAPE! Sirius is dead, and it's all his FAULT!  
  
Red and gold sparks flew out of Harry's wand that he didn't even realise he was holding. Irrational anger bubbled up inside of him. Snape whipped around from the front of the room to face Harry.  
  
"Is there a problem, Mr. Potter?" Snape hissed, eyes narrowing suspiciously.  
  
"Yes there is," Harry spat furiously, not even aware of what he was going to say next. "And I'd like to see you after class to discuss it." He was so angry he felt like his blood was boiling in his veins. All summer long, he'd done nothing but think about Sirius, and right next to Sirius' memory was the memory of Snape. Snape taking his worst memories and using them against him. Snape laughing at his humiliation. Snape refusing to teach him Occlumency. He glared up at the greasy haired professor, almost expecting sparks to fly out of his eyes as well.  
  
Snape watched him thoughtfully. Opened his mouth to answer then closed it, as if he thought better of what he was going to say. Then only said, "Very well, Mr. Potter. And five points off of Gryffindor for disrupting class."  
  
For the first time, Harry looked around at the rest of the class. They were all staring at him silently. Ron's eyebrows were raised so high they were hidden under the fringe of red hair on his forehead.  
  
He cleared his throat and said, "Right, then," before bending back over his book. Surprising himself, he was able to concentrate on his work for the rest of the class and his sample of potion was almost as silver as Hermione's. He waited patiently for the rest of the class to leave before attempting to approach Snape. Blaise Zabini was the last to leave, and gave him an appraising look before gathering his book bag and quill and leaving the classroom. After Blaise shut the door behind him, Harry remained seated and waited for Snape to speak first. He felt strangely calm. Snape sat at his desk, pretending to grade a paper but Harry could see that his eyes were not moving up and down the parchment, but staring in one spot. Finally, after about five minutes of silence Snape looked up at him.  
  
"Let's hear it, Potter, you've wasted enough of my time as it is."  
  
His eyes never leaving Snape's face, Harry gathered up his book bag and walked slowly up to the front.  
  
"I want you to teach me Occlumency."  
  
Whatever Snape had expected him to say, this definitely was not it. His face registered shock for a split second, before returning to his usual scowl.  
  
"And why on earth would I want to do something like that. It's bad enough I have to suffer your presence in my Potions classroom three days a week."  
  
"You owe me! It's your fault Sirius got killed!"  
  
"I owe you NOTHING! If you were really that concerned with continuing Occlumency lessons perhaps you should have thought of that before snooping in my private thoughts like the nosy little brat that you are!"  
  
Harry flushed. He had forgotten about that. "Look, Sn-, I mean, Professor. That was an accident. I didn't mean-"  
  
Snape sneered at him. "You accidentally fell in my Pensieve? Don't lie. You think you're so much better than everyone else is. Just like your father, you follow your own set of rules, everyone else be damned."  
  
"That's not true!" Harry shouted. "I'm not like that! What he did- what he did to you was wrong. I'm sorry I looked in your stupid Pensieve. I-"  
  
"I don't need your sniveling apologies," Snape hissed. If you want to be taught Occlumency, go to the Headmaster. I'm sure he'd be glad to teach his favorite, precious student."  
  
"I don't want Professor Dumbledore to teach me, I want you to teach me!" Snape raised his eyebrows disbelievingly.  
  
"Look," Harry continued, a note of pleading entering his voice. "I know that you spy for Vold-"  
  
"Hush you idiot boy!" Snape growled, throwing a silencing charm around the room. "Whatever it is you think you know, don't be stupid enough to talk about it out loud!"  
  
"But still," Harry persisted, "I know you have to go up against... certain people with your mind blocked regularly. If you can fool him, then you can teach me to fool him as well. I know I can get Dumbledore to teach me but I trust him-- it would be too easy. I would be better prepared with your help."  
  
"And why should I care?" Snape said, his black eyes gleaming dully. "I have too many things to do as it is, besides babysitting school children."  
  
"Because you know I'm the only one who can defeat Voldemort. And I need to be ready." Harry leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk for support.  
  
Snape took a step back and stared at him for so long that Harry was beginning to believe he should just give up and leave. Finally, Snape spoke, his voice low and thoughtful.  
  
"So Dumbledore told you, did he? I expected he might by now. Very well, Potter, 6:00 sharp on Wednesday evening. Now get out of my sight."  
  
Harry nodded curtly and stepped out of the room, shutting the door to the classroom before breaking into a run to Transfiguration, knowing better than to ask Snape for a note to give Professor McGonagall for being late.  
  
The rest of the day passed quickly and it wasn't until supper before he had a chance to tell Ron and Hermione about his meeting with Snape. He trudged with them wearily up to the castle from the Herbology greenhouse, Hermione chatting away about the day's lesson of pruning asphodel. They reached the Great Hall and took their usual seats at the Gryffindor table, Ron pulling a dish of roasted Cornish hens towards his seat before sitting down completely.  
  
"Harry, I simply can't wait any longer," Hermione said suddenly, breaking off from her running stream of Herbology commentary. "What in the world did you talk to Snape about?"  
  
"Well," Harry began, lowering his voice so that Ron and Hermione had to lean their heads in close to hear him. "I asked him to continue teaching Occlumency to me."  
  
"What?!" Ron spluttered. "I can understand you being depressed about Sirius, mate, but this is suicidal!"  
  
"No, it isn't!" Harry protested. "If I can block Snape, I can block anyone. I won't have Voldemort messing with my head!"  
  
He looked at Hermione, who was nodding silently, for support. "I agree, Harry," she said finally, smiling at him. "But, Merlin, they didn't put you in Gryffindor for nothing. What did Snape say when you asked him?"  
  
Harry laughed for the first time that day. "Actually, it was brilliant. You should have seen his face--"  
  
"Hello everyone. Sorry to interrupt." Katie Bell, a seventh year Chaser for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, had walked down from her seat at the table and was standing behind them.  
  
"Hi Katie, what's up?" Harry asked.  
  
"Well, first off, Angelina voted me for Quidditch captain this year..."  
  
"Right on!" Ron exclaimed.  
  
Katie blushed slightly, but continued. "Er, thanks. Anyway, as you heard Quidditch tryouts are next week and since we have many spaces to fill I thought it would be a good idea to have tryout practises every evening next week. I'll be posting the times up in the common room. Okay?"  
  
"Sounds good," Harry said. And it did, flying always proved to be a good stress reliever and he hadn't been on a broom since his trip to the beach.  
  
"If you two are going to be practising all next week, we'd better get a start on some homework tonight," Hermione said primly after Katie walked off.  
  
Ron groaned. "Already, it starts! I can't believe McGonagall gave us homework on the first day, either."  
  
"You should be used to it by now," Harry said absently, remembering he had that meeting with Dumbledore after dinner tonight, and wouldn't be able to get started on his homework until later that evening.  
  
He finished eating quickly, and excused himself. Not feeling up to a real explanation, he told Ron and Hermione he was going to talk to Dumbledore about restarting the D.A. meetings, and that he would meet them back up in the common room.  
  
Feeling no small amount of trepidation, he left the Great Hall and walked towards Dumbledore's office. As the great stone gargoyles came into view, his feet felt heavier and heavier until he stopped in front of them, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He licked his lips nervously as the gargoyles parted in front of him, revealing a spiral stone staircase. He stepped in and shut his eyes as the steps began to rise. What news did Dumbledore have in store for him this time? 


	8. The Wizard's Apprentice

WA Chpt 8  
  
The Wizard's Apprentice  
  
The stairs stopped smoothly and Harry found himself standing in the atrium of Dumbledore's office. The fire burned low and shadows flickered across the walls. The sharp eyes of Phineas Nigellus were watching him closely from a nearby portrait, but he said nothing. The room was deadly quiet and Harry pulled his arms tight around himself. There was no sign of Dumbledore. A soft whispering noise came from behind him, and he turned to see Fawkes soar across the room and land on the golden perch next to Harry. Harry walked over, stroked Fawkes' feathery head, and murmured a soft greeting to the phoenix.  
  
"Harry," Dumbledore's cheerful voice reverberated from behind him. "I didn't hear you arrive. Come, sit down." Harry jumped, but Dumbledore did not seem as if his unexpected entry was in any way unusual.  
  
Dumbledore waved his hand and immediately the fire in the hearth blazed, and the candle flames danced merrily along the walls, creating a friendly glow in the small room. Harry followed Dumbledore to the jumbled desk, taking his usual seat across from the aging wizard.  
  
"Fizzing Whizbee?" Dumbledore asked, proffering a brightly coloured tin.  
  
"Er, thanks," Harry said, taking a sweet. He took it more to keep his hands occupied than for want of the candy. Dumbledore rose from the desk again, and walked to a tea set perched on a nearby table, returning with two steaming cups. He handed one to Harry, who took a tentative sip, and was surprised to find the tea was exactly as he liked it— creamer, with two sugars.  
  
"Well, Harry, let me get to the point then," Dumbledore said, after sitting back down across the desk.  
  
"Please," Harry said, a bit vehemently. Dumbledore chuckled, but then a sober look passed over his face.  
  
"There are a few reasons why I asked you to meet me tonight, Harry. The first thing is regarding Sirius." Harry stiffened, and sat up straighter in his chair.  
  
"What about him?" he asked, eying Dumbledore warily.  
  
"Sirius has left everything to you, Harry."  
  
"He what?" Harry exclaimed, dumbfounded. Dumbledore gave him a reassuring smile. He heard Phineas snort disdainfully, hidden somewhere in his frame.  
  
"Sirius named you as his sole heir. It's all yours, Harry— Grimmauld Place, the contents of his vault at Gringotts, the motorbike..."  
  
"The motorbike?" Harry repeated, feeling dazed. Dumbledore smiled again.  
  
"Yes, Hagrid has taken good care of it all these years. Kept it out behind his garden in fact-- disguised, of course."  
  
Harry sat stunned, all these months he had never once thought of what was going to happen to Sirius' stuff. He supposed that he assumed Sirius wouldn't have many possessions, since he was in prison for so long. Dumbledore waited a moment before speaking again, letting Harry absorb this new information.  
  
"This brings me to the second issue, Harry. I would like to ask your permission to continue using Grimmauld Place as the Headquarters for the Order."  
  
Harry laughed incredulously, still feeling a bit stunned. "You don't need my permission! I'm not even part of the Order!"  
  
"Ah, but it IS your house now, Harry. It's up to you."  
  
"Of course you can use it!" Harry said. "Do what you need to do."  
  
"Thank you, Harry. I appreciate that."  
  
They sat in silence again. Dumbledore seemed to be appraising Harry thoughtfully. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair under his gaze, but did not look away. Finally, Dumbledore spoke, his eyes never leaving Harry's face.  
  
"Have you thought any more about what we spoke of at the end of last term, Harry?"  
  
Harry swallowed hard. "You mean, about the... prophecy?"  
  
"Indeed," Dumbledore agreed, inclining his head.  
  
"Of course I have," Harry said, starting to feel a bit irritated. What did Dumbledore think? That Harry was just going to have a normal summer spending his time thinking about Quidditch, or perhaps even girls?  
  
"I've thought of nothing else," he said aloud, his voice a bit harsher than he expected. Dumbledore didn't seem to mind, however, and nodded at him.  
  
"I had thought as much. Tell me, Harry, what have you done to prepare?"  
  
Harry gasped. How did Dumbledore know? He stared at Dumbledore, wondering how much he should reveal-- his own person training, or plans he had made with Ron, Hermione, and Ginny? A grandfather clock chimed the hour somewhere and Fawkes fluttered down from his perch to sit on Dumbledore's desk, startling Harry out of his reverie.  
  
"Well," he admitted reluctantly. "A lot, actually... I've been reading up on different spells- defensive, curses, jinxes... I plan on practising them all now that I'm in school."  
  
Dumbledore nodded, "Very good. You always were one to step up to a challenge. It's something I admire about you, Harry. One of many things."  
  
Harry blushed faintly, but said nothing. The butterflies in his stomach had started up again, and Harry felt that Dumbledore had yet to get to the main reason for this visit. He wasn't wrong. As if reading his mind, Dumbledore pressed his fingertips together, and peered at him over the rim of his half moon spectacles.  
  
"I'm sure you wondering why I really asked you here, Harry, and I won't delay any longer. Extra studying of textbook spells is a fine idea, but it will only get you so far. What would benefit you far greater is having someone to teach you things not normally found in Hogwarts' curriculum."  
  
Harry held his breath. He couldn't mean...?  
  
"What I am saying is," Dumbledore went on, looking at him seriously. "How would you like to be my apprentice?"  
  
Harry exhaled the breath he hadn't realised his had been holding. "I'd love to!" he exclaimed, then thought for a second. "What exactly do you mean?"  
  
Dumbledore laughed. "What I mean is, Harry, that, once a week, I'd like for you to visit me in my office for an hour or so. I'd like to teach you an old mans tricks, so to speak."  
  
"I'd be honoured, sir," Harry said earnestly, leaning forward in his chair. "Do you usually apprentice students?"  
  
"Not in a long, long, time," Dumbledore said, with a trace of sadness. "I used to pick a student every year or so. One that I thought would gain the most from the experience."  
  
"What happened?" Harry asked. "What made you stop?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed, and Harry thought he looked much older than he had just ten minutes ago. "It was a little over fifty years ago, and I made the grave mistake of choosing a student who would one day use what I taught him against me and all humankind."  
  
"You mean Voldemort?" Harry gasped.  
  
Dumbledore nodded wearily. "Of course, as you know, he was called Tom Riddle back then. He was an exceptional student, and had the potential to go on to do great things. I started apprenticing him in his fourth year- far earlier than any of the other students. Things went fine for an entire year. I knew, of course, that Riddle came from a troubled background. I had hoped, alas, that I could help turn his thinking around so that he could channel his magical energy for good, and not malevolence. A fool's dream, Harry. For even by then, evil ran so deep in him that there was no turning back for Tom. I have the burden of knowing that during that year I armed him with magical knowledge that he would one day use against wizards and muggles alike."  
  
Dumbledore paused there and drank tea from the cup sitting next to him. Harry looked down and was surprised to see that he was still holding his cup, as well. He had forgotten all about it. He took a sip, and waited for Dumbledore to continue. When he didn't, Harry couldn't contain himself any longer.  
  
"But what happened? How did you finally realise what Riddle was?"  
  
Dumbledore glanced up from his cup and stared at Harry with his piercing blue eyes. "During those years, Harry, wizards were ending another war with another tyrant, the dark wizard Grindelwald. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Tom had taken a great interest in the dark side of magic, and in those who followed it. Through his pursuit of the dark arts, Tom became acquainted with Grindelwald, learning much deadlier magic along the way. Then, when he returned to Hogwarts for his fifth year, it became obvious to me that Tom was beyond my help.  
  
In his seventh year, I was fortunate enough to defeat Grindelwald. The wizarding world was rejoicing, but Tom saw it for what it was— an opportunity. The world will never be without evil— without true evil, there cannot be true good. Grindelwald's death left an opening for leadership within the dark side of the wizarding community, and Tom seized that opening with both hands. We found out later that as early as his fourth year at Hogwarts he started recruiting his peers to his way of thinking. By the time he left school, he had a following so large that he had no trouble picking up all of Grindelwald's old supporters."  
  
"But, you knew!" Harry exclaimed. "Couldn't you have stopped him while he was here?"  
  
"Of course I suspected, but I had no proof. Tom was very clever at hiding the truth, even then." Dumbledore paused to take another sip of tea, and the clock chimed again before lapsing into silence.  
  
"Oh my, " Dumbledore said. "I have kept you up late, and I have another appointment I expect to be arriving soon. Go on up to the tower, Harry, and come back on Monday. We'll work on actual lessons then."  
  
"But I want to hear more about Voldemort," Harry said stubbornly, staying seated in the chair.  
  
Dumbledore looked at him with an odd expression. "You will Harry, unfortunately. Probably more than you think. Now off to bed with you before Filch starts making his rounds."  
  
"But, wait, please," Harry said quickly. "There are a few things I wanted to ask. Not about Voldemort, I promise," he added hastily, seeing Dumbledore raise an eyebrow.  
  
"By all means..." Dumbledore said, gesturing towards him.  
  
"The Fidelius Charm— Ron said that Hermione could be killed performing it, is that true?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed, "There is risk in everything related to magic, Harry— the stronger the magic, the greater the risk. Magic uses a bit of us each time, you see. However, I do not plan to let any harm come to Miss Granger. Besides, there are very few witches or wizards at Hogwarts who can outperform Hermione in ways of magic."  
  
Harry nodded, accepting this. "What about Malfoy? He knew! He was the one—."  
  
Dumbledore raised a hand. "Harry, calm down. Miss Granger told us all about her confrontation with Mr. Malfoy that day at Diagon Alley. It is being taken care of. Now, is there anything else?"  
  
Harry swallowed hard, bit back another comment about Malfoy, and nodded instead. "Yes. I wanted to see if it was okay to continue with D.A. lessons. Hermione thinks it would be a good idea— promoting unity in the houses... or something."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Yes, I'm glad you asked. It is an excellent idea."  
  
Harry grinned in return. He hadn't realised until now how much he wanted to continue lessons.  
  
"However," Dumbledore said. "Since this will be a school sponsored event, I feel it best that you get a Hogwarts professor to supervise."  
  
Harry's face fell. A teacher? That could ruin everything!  
  
"I was thinking," Dumbledore continued, as if he did not see the change in Harry's expression, "that perhaps Professor Tonks would be available. She is, after all, our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."  
  
"That's a great idea!" Harry exclaimed. "I'll ask her next week."  
  
"You do that," Dumbledore said. "But now, you need to get yourself to bed."  
  
Harry left Dumbledore's office feeling as if he could have used twelve Pensieves to sort through all of the new information he had been given. He had almost made it to the Great Hall when he heard footsteps coming from directly ahead of him. Filch, he thought frantically, and ducked into the nearest classroom, not a moment too soon.  
  
As the footsteps came closer, Harry realised that it was not Filch, as he first assumed. It was a student— no, two students— he could hear them talking now. Instinct warned him to keep hidden, and he leaned forward toward the open door, straining to hear. It wasn't long until he could make out what they were saying, and immediately recognised the drawling voice of Draco Malfoy.  
  
"What are you doing here, Blaise?"  
  
"I could ask the same thing of you, Draco."  
  
"You know perfectly well what I'm doing. I've been summoned to that old fool's office."  
  
"I am fully aware of that, but I'm curious as to why. What were you playing at, telling that Mudblood the plans for her parents? Your father will not be pleased... One would think you wanted an excuse to go to Dumbledore's office."  
  
The footsteps stopped right outside the classroom, and Harry held his breath. Sweat rolled down his forehead, stinging his eyes. There was a thud on the other side of the classroom wall, as if someone had been shoved against it.  
  
"If you ever mentioned my father again, Zabini, you're a dead man." Draco's voice came out low and menacing, but Harry detected something else... was it fear?  
  
Blaise laughed shortly. "Don't change the subject. You'd better be careful, Draco. There are those who would be very interested to find out that you have plans of your own."  
  
There was a rustling noise, and Harry heard footsteps again, as Blaise passed by the open door, back the way he had come. Harry waited a few more minutes, until Draco's footsteps started up again, continuing on, Harry assumed, to Dumbledore's office. Once he was sure he was alone, Harry left the classroom and sprinted off towards Gryffindor tower, hoping desperately not to run into anyone else.  
  
He didn't stop running until he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, and by then he was panting so hard, he could barely say the password.  
  
"Goodness," the Fat Lady exclaimed. "Where's the fire? There's no trouble I hope."  
  
"No," Harry said, and pushed by her impatiently. He scanned the common room quickly and spotted Ron and Hermione sitting at one of the study tables. Hermione was bent studiously over a piece of parchment, and Ron appeared to be trying to distract her, albeit, unsuccessfully. Now, he looked up as Harry approached.  
  
"Harry! What's happened to you, mate? You look as if twelve rampaging Hippogriffs were after you!"  
  
Harry plopped down in the seat next to him, and took a minute to catch his breath. Even Hermione looked up interestedly at him, setting down her quill neatly next to the essay she had been writing.  
  
"You're never going to believe the conversation I just heard!" he exclaimed. "I just ran into Malfoy and Blaise Zabini in the hall—."  
  
"Oh! They didn't see you, I hope?" Hermione interrupted, looking worried.  
  
"What? No! Just listen, will you?" Harry said, while Ron rolled his eyes. "They were talking about that day in Diagon Alley— and Blaise seems to think that Malfoy told you about your parents just for a reason to be summoned to Dumbledore!"  
  
"But, why would he do that?" Ron frowned. "He could've just walked up to Dumbledore at any time. Not that I'm complaining, mind you."  
  
"No, he couldn't," Harry said, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "Think about it, Ron. Everyone knows he hates Dumbledore. The whole school would be talking about it if he went to Dumbledore voluntarily."  
  
Ron continued to look doubtful, but Hermione looked thoughful. "I think you're right, Harry, if that's why Malfoy told me in the first place. Tell me, what else did Dumbledore say? You've been gone ages."  
  
Harry told them all about Sirius' will and becoming Dumbledore's apprentice.  
  
Ron gaped at him. "Dumbledore is going to teach you himself! Brilliant! You'll have to show us what you learn!"  
  
Hermione nodded emphatically. "Think about all the new material you'll have to teach the D.A. You did get permission to start it back, didn't you?"  
  
"Yes!" Harry said, starting to feel excited. Their enthusiasm was catching. "And get this— Dumbledore says we have to have a sponsor, but that we can use Tonks!"  
  
"Wicked!" Ron exclaimed. "When do you want to have the next meeting?"  
  
"I dunno," Harry said. "I have to meet with Dumbledore on Monday, and we have Quidditch practise every evening after dinner next week..."  
  
"Well, what about Wednesday, after Quidditch practise, then? About eight o'clock?" Hermione suggested. "I can check with the other house teams, just to make sure there's no other practise that conflicts then."  
  
"Sounds good," Harry agreed. "So, what are we going to do tomorrow? It is Saturday. I was thinking about visiting Hagrid, I bet he has loads to tell us. From what Dumbledore said at the opening feast, it sounds like Grawp has the run of the Forbidden Forest..." He trailed off at the closed look on Ron's face.  
  
"You should do that, Harry," Hermione said cautiously. "But... I'm meeting my parents tomorrow— for the Fidelius Charm. Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and I are going to Floo to the Leaky Cauldron. My parents have been there before, remember, in our second year?"  
  
Harry chanced a glance at Ron, and saw pink tinges appearing on his ears and cheeks. "Okay then," he said a little too loudly. "Ron, you and I can go. We haven't seen Hagrid in ages." Ron didn't answer. Harry sighed, "Ron, I talked to Dumbledore about it. He really doesn't feel that Hermione will be in any danger..."  
  
"Of course he doesn't feel that way! He's near invincible himself!" Ron exploded, making Harry and Hermione wince, and earning stares from other students in the common room.  
  
"Ron..." Hermione pleaded. "It's very sweet that you're so concerned—."  
  
"Sweet? Sweet! I am not sweet!" Ron shouted, standing up from the table and looking indignant. "I am— I am manly!"  
  
Hermione stared at him, and then giggled unexpectedly. Harry caught her eye and couldn't help laughing himself. Soon, they were all doubled over, tears streaming down their faces— Ron included.  
  
"I'm sorry, Ron—," Hermione said finally, but ruined it by letting another giggle escape.  
  
"Yes, me too," Harry added. "Everyone thinks you're very manly."  
  
Ron gave him a very rude gesture in reply. "Oh, sod it, the both of you," Ron said, but good-naturedly. "I'm knackered. I'm going to bed."  
  
"Yes, me too," Hermione agreed, stifling a yawn. "I expect I'll see you both at dinner tomorrow night."  
  
Harry followed Ron up the stairs to their room and fell asleep practically before his head hit the pillow.  
  
Harry stood at the entrance to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. He raised his fist to knock on the door, but then remembered— We mustn't wake the portraits! Instead, he reached for the doorknob, but before he could reach it the door swung open slowly, squeaking eerily in the silence. "Sirius?" Harry called. His voice echoed down through the house, bouncing off of unseen walls and doors. Harry stepped over the threshold, each step he took resonated off the floor, and sent tremors through his head. Don't wake the portraits. Mustn't wake the portraits, he chanted silently to himself.  
  
"Sirius!" Harry called again, this time a bit louder.  
  
"Over here, Harry," came Sirius' voice, somewhere ahead of him.  
  
Harry smiled. Of course. Sirius is in the kitchen. Where else could he be? He ran down the dusty hallway towards the kitchen, he could already smell bangers and mash cooking. He threw open the kitchen door and saw... nothing. Cobwebs had been spun everywhere, the old table looked rotted through, and there was a thick layer of dust covering everything.  
  
"Sirius! Sirius where are you?" Harry shouted, starting to feel panicked.  
  
"I'm up here, Harry." Sirius' voice floated down to him from the upstairs.  
  
Harry turned on his heel and ran up one flight of stairs, then the next, stopping at each landing to throw open the bedroom doors. They were all empty.  
  
"There's nothing but dust here! DUST!" he screeched. He heard the floor creak behind him, and spun around to see Sirius standing not an inch behind him. The face changed, and it wasn't Sirius at all... it was a mirror, and that was his, Harry's, refection in it. Harry peered at it to get a closer look... he leaned in so that his nose was practically touching the glass. Somewhere behind him a mournful wail grew louder and louder.  
  
His reflection looked at him, and shrieked, "I THOUGHT YOU WEREN'T GOING TO WAKE THE PORTRAITS!"  
  
Harry woke up with a start and sat up straight in bed, his heart pounding. Instinctively, he reached for his chest, where the moonstone usually hung. It wasn't there— he had forgotten to wear it last night. He glanced wildly about, and saw it hanging innocently from his bedpost.  
  
Sighing, Harry reached for the water pitcher next to his bed and poured himself a glass. He could see the sun already rising through the window, and blinked in the sudden glare of light. He decided he might as well stay awake, but there was something he wanted to look at first before getting dressed. He walked around to the foot of his bed, and threw his trunk open, kneeling before it. Shoving aside several robes and his old trainers, he finally found what he was looking for. There, still lying broken in the bottom of his trunk, was the mirror that Sirius gave him. 


	9. What the House Elves Know

Chapter Nine

**What the House Elves Know**

**H**arry sat staring silently into his trunk, not moving a muscle. Then, all in one movement, he jumped up, grabbed his wand, and pointed it into his trunk.

"Reparo," he whispered hoarsely. The shards of mirror flew together. With a trembling hand, he reached down and picked up the newly repaired mirror. It sparkled deceivingly from the light ever growing in the tower window. He raised the mirror to his face with a trembling hand and saw... nothing. Only his pale, drawn face stared back at him. Disappointment and shame coursed through him. Why would this time be any different? Just because he had had a dream, he had foolishly thought that this time he would be able to see Sirius staring back at him from the mirror. Had he learnt nothing from last year? He should know by now not to trust anything he saw in his dreams.

"What's that you got there, Harry?" Ron's voice broke through the tomb-like silence.

Harry jumped and turned wildly about, too late to try to hide the mirror in his trunk. "It's nothing," he said curtly. _He had been so sure that the dream had _meant_ something..._

Ron sighed, and Harry looked up to see hurt flash across Ron's blue eyes. He felt instantly guilty. Ron wasn't without worries, either. Hermione must be on her way to Diagon Alley by now.

"It's this mirror," he said quickly, trying to make up for his apparent rudeness. "Sirius gave it to me." He reached up and handed it to Ron, who sat at the foot of Harry's bed. Ron took it from him, looking mildly grateful.

"What does it do?" he asked curiously, turning the mirror over in his hands.

"Sirius and my dad each had one," Harry explained. "They used it to talk to each other when they had detentions."

Ron looked impressed. "Wicked. Where's the other one?"

"Huh?"

"The. Other. One," Ron said slowly, as if speaking to someone quite daft.

Harry frowned. "I assumed Sirius had it on him when he fell through... you know."

Ron shrugged. "I dunno, Harry. Sirius probably left in a hurry. D'you think he'd remember to grab the mirror on his way out? Owl Lupin, I bet he could check Grimmauld Place for you."

Harry stared at him. This actually made sense. "Ron," he said, "that's the smartest thing you've said all week."

Ron threw a pillow at his head. "Well, here's a better idea. Let's go to breakfast."

**A**fter eating his fill, Harry thought it would be a good plan to go ahead and visit Hagrid, even without Hermione there. It would be something to take Ron's mind off whatever it was exactly that Hermione was doing. They left the Great Hall and walked across the grounds. The air was hot and thick as thunderclouds gathered overhead.

"Ron-" Harry said suddenly, as an idea struck him. "You know when you have those funny memories?"

"Yeah," Ron answered, raising an eyebrow. "What about them?"

"Well, can you call up specific thoughts? I mean, d'you think you have any memories in your head about my mirror? Maybe something about how it works?"

Ron was already shaking his head. "No, mate. I wish it worked that way. I don't reckon I'd have to study again, would I, if that were the case." He paused before resuming their path down to Hagrid's cabin. "It's all random. The most interesting thought I've had all week is that I suddenly knew how to clean all the coats of armour leading to the Great Hall. Who would've thought there were so many types of Magical Mess Remover?"

**T**hey didn't see Hagrid in his cabin, so they swung around the back, past the gigantic pumpkin patch, to see if he was out tending his gardens. They were just skirting the edge of the Forbidden Forest when an eerie, blood curdling wail sounded around them. Harry grabbed Ron's arm and quickly pulled him down behind the nearest pumpkin.

"What do you think it is?" he asked Ron, who looked wide-eyed and pale. After a brief moment's panic, Harry realised that the sound was getting neither louder nor softer but kept on at the same ear-splitting pitch.

"I dunno," said Ron, "but it doesn't seem as if it's getting any closer, does it?"

Right about then a large, meaty hand clamped down on Harry's shoulder and it was all he could do not to yell with surprise. "Hagrid!" he exclaimed instead, looking up at the owner of the hand. "What _is_ that noise?"

"Oh yeah," Hagrid said, and waved the umbrella, which Harry had just noticed in his other hand, in a slash ward motion through the air. The wailing stopped immediately. "'Bout got used ter it. Goes off all the ruddy time. Too sensitive, it is. Starts its cryin' every time somethin' small as a pixie goes past." He reached out with both hands and helped pull Harry and Ron up from the ground. He did this so effectively that Harry felt his feet leave the dirt.

"Sorry," Ron interrupted, looking a trifle irritated. "But, what are you on about?" What's too sensitive?"

"Why, the alarm Dumbledore put around the Forbidden Forest, o' course." Hagrid said, looking surprised at the question. "Yeh heard what he said at the feast about how no one's s'posed ter enter- no matter what."

"Why is that?" Harry asked curiously, leaning down to brush leaves from the knees of his robes. "Is it because of the centaurs? Are they still hacked off about Firenze teaching at Hogwarts?"

Hagrid's expression darkened. "Nah... Well, they're still in a righ' state, but it's nothin' compared ter... other stuff."

"What other stuff?" Ron asked quickly, but something had caught Harry's attention. As he straightened and scanned the top of the forest, he saw that every few seconds a tree would shake violently, sending flocks of birds pell mell into the sky. He watched this phenomenon all the while Hagrid was talking, but now turned to look at him suspiciously.

"Hagrid," he asked, already shrewdly guessing at the answer. "There aren't _more_ giants in the Forest, are there?"

Hagrid suddenly looked very shifty. "Well," he said finally. "Perhaps you two should come in for a cup o' tea." Ron and Harry exchanged dark looks before following him into the cabin.

"I was jus' abou' ter heat up some stew, if yeh'd care fer some," Hagrid offered as they sat down around his large, wooden table. He gestured with his hand towards a cauldron filled with broth, vegetables, and something that still appeared to be moving.

"Er... no, thanks anyway, Hagrid," Ron said quickly; his face turning an interesting shade of green.

"Besides, we just ate," Harry added, trying to push Hagrid's large boarhound, Fang, away as he attempted to lick the skin off Harry's face. "Why don't you just tell us about the giants?"

"Well, alrigh'... s'pose yeh wouldn't want any rock cakes?" Hagrid said evasively, looking hopeful. "No... I guess not," he mumbled, seeing the impatience written on their faces. "I didn't plan on it," he explained, looking at them imploringly as he poured their cups full of tea from a pitcher the size of Harry's head. "I was still in the middle of teachin' Grawpy how to write, yeh see, when the firs' one showed up."

"The first giant?" Ron interrupted excitedly.

"That's righ'," Hagrid said, sitting down next to them. "A female this time. Apparently, she left the pack some time after me an' Madame Maxime did, an' followed our scent. Clever girl." Hagrid got all misty eyed at this and Harry allowed him a minute of silence before impatiently reminding him to go on.

"At firs' I was real happy like. She an' Grawp got along righ' as rain, they did, an' I was glad he had a companion."

"And then what happened?" Ron asked a trifle breathlessly.

"And then the rest o' 'em showed up, startin' around the beginnin' o' July."

Harry's stomach flipped and suddenly felt as if it was filled with ice. "By 'the rest' you mean how many? Three? Four?" he asked Hagrid hopefully.

"Ten. Twelve in all if yeh count Grawp and Mathilda."

"Twelve," Ron gasped. "And Dumbledore knows?"

"'Course he knows. It's not an easy task tryin' ter hide that many giants," Hagrid said, beaming. "Like I said, he set up the alarms and everything. Great man, Dum-."

"Yeah, yeah," Ron said, cutting Hagrid off. "We know- Dumbledore's great. Listen, what are you doing with them all? Can we see them?"

Harry groaned. Ron, after all, had not been with him and Hermione when they encountered Grawp last year. Harry was not rushed for a third meeting with the giant.

"Maybe we should wait for Hermione," he said quickly, before Hagrid could reply. Ron's face fell, and Harry hated to be the one to remind him of Hermione's absence.

"Don' worry, Ron," Hagrid said kindly. "Dumbledore would never let somethin' happen ter one o' his students. 'Specially not our Hermione."

"Yeah, right," Ron said crossly. "Dumbledore would never let any of his students do anything dangerous... like go up against a basilisk, or a dragon, or- or..." he trailed off, looking cross.

Harry and Hagrid exchanged worried looks. "Come on Ron," Harry said finally. "Why don't we go practise Quidditch until she shows up? We need to anyway, if tryouts are next week."

Ron agreed to this reluctantly, and they bid Hagrid goodbye, with promises to return soon with Hermione.

**T**hey practised Quidditch the rest of the afternoon. Harry was relieved that Ron seemed to be playing as well as he did in the match against Ravenclaw last year. It was going to be hard enough trying to find replacement Beaters for Fred and George, and replacement Chasers for Angelina and Alicia without worrying about their Keeper having stage fright. It wasn't until the dark clouds that had gathered let loose a torrent of rain that they decided to call it quits and head up to the castle. Since it was almost suppertime, they headed towards the Great Hall, where tantalizing smells wafted invitingly toward them. They had almost made it when Professor McGonagall's crisp voice called to them from down the corridor. Harry and Ron turned to see her walking toward them, limping slightly.

"Blasted knee," she grumbled. "Still gives me a funny turn when it rains. Ever since last year— oh, yes," she interrupted herself as she reached Harry and Ron. "Potter. Weasley. You'll be glad to know Miss Granger has returned to the castle safely. I have talked Madame Pomfrey into letting you two visit her."

"Thanks, Professor!" Harry said and gave her a brief smile before turning to follow Ron, who had already started down the hall towards the infirmary, and for once, had seemed to forget about dinner.

**H**arry did not know what he expected Hermione to look like, but he found himself surprised that she did look so well. A bit peaky, perhaps, and paler than normal, but generally she looked the same as she always did. He and Ron had entered the infirmary only to be greeted by glares from Madame Pomfrey, who reluctantly led them to the bed Hermione now occupied.

Hermione smiled warmly at them, as they went to stand on opposite sides of her bed.

"So... how are you feeling?" Harry asked finally, when it became apparent the Ron was just going to stand there and stare at Hermione, as if seeing her for the first time.

"Oh, quite well, actually. Tired though, to be honest." Hermione admitted. "Dumbledore said I would be for a few days, but I should be able to attend classes on Monday— thankfully, I would hate to start out the year by missing some of our first lessons."

"Yes, what a tragedy," Ron said, having found his tongue at last. He rolled his eyes at Harry. "Only Hermione would come through a life threatening situation and be glad she didn't miss any classes."

Hermione frowned. "I keep telling you— it wasn't a life threat—,"

"How did you do it?" Harry asked, interrupting her. "I mean, how does the spell work, exactly?"

Hermione perked up at this. "Well," she said, sitting up more and bed, her eyes sparkling, a startling contrast to her pale face. "I'm glad you asked. It's all very interesting. Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall chanted a long incantation— I'll have to look it up in the library— and then Professor Dumbledore performed the spell."

"What kind of spell?" Ron asked, leaning forward expectantly.

She bit her lip. "You know, it's funny. It wasn't like any spell I've ever seen before. It was more like a ... blend... of spells."

"A blend?" Ron repeated, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Yes. It started out as a type of binding spell... with a memory charm... and then some kind of shield charm, I believe. Except, I don't think it was a standard combination. I think it was a mix of each one personalised for my parents and me. I don't think that _any_ two Fidelius charms would be alike."

Harry boggled to absorb this new information. He had thought that all spells were basically the same; he had no idea they could be customised. This discovery opened a completely new world of possibilities. He was only just realising how much he still had to learn about magic.

**T**hey stayed in the infirmary as long as they could discussing the magical possibilities this new information presented. Madame Pomfrey must have been in a generous mood that evening, because it was well after dinner before she shooed them out ("My patient needs rest!"). It wasn't until then that Harry realised how hungry he was, and he had no trouble convincing Ron to sneak down to the kitchen before heading up to Gryffindor Tower.

Since it was almost close to curfew, the corridors were almost empty as they walked the route to the now familiar painting of a bowl of fruit. Clutching his rumbling stomach with one hand, Ron reached out and tickled the green pear. It giggled madly as the heavy door swung open and Harry braced himself for the inevitable whirlwind that was Dobby the house elf. However, there was not a single house elf to be seen...

"Where d'you think they've gone?" Ron asked, peering around the empty kitchen. "I hope they haven't got that spew nonsense into their heads and been put off cooking."

"Of course they haven't," Harry said. "You've been eating their food, haven't you?" Besides, I hear voices. Come on." He led Ron through the large kitchen, past bright pots sparkling invitingly, and through a door in the back into another room they had never been in before. It was dark, but a flickering green light from the back allowed them to see rows of food stacked so high on shelves that they were unable to see where it ended in the dimly lit ceiling.

"Wow," Ron breathed. "How is it that we're just now finding this? Let's just grab some and go; we could get a whole week's worth of food if we wanted."

Harry was not listening. He crept towards the voices, which seemed to be coming from the same place as the light. As he reached the end of one aisle, and peered around the shelf, he saw all of the house elves gathered around an enormous marble fireplace. It wasn't until a man's voice spoke that he realised there was a head amongst the burning flames. _Dumbledore_. Harry held his breath, and strained to hear what the headmaster was saying.

"...given you all the known risks. You are free to choose, and whatever you decide will--,"

CRASH.

Dumbledore's voice stopped abruptly and his head disappeared from the fireplace. Harry and all of the house elves jumped in surprise, turning to see what caused the commotion. It was Ron.

Ron looked sheepishly at Harry. At his feet lay several broken jars, their contents spilled out onto the floor.

"I was trying to reach for some marmalade near the top, but when I pulled the jar, the rest came down with it," he whispered guiltily.

Harry shook his head exasperatedly, but before he could say anything, he was interrupted by a squeakyvoice.

"Harry Potter, sir, what is you doing here?"

Harry and Ron turned to see all of the house elves gathered, staring at them, their lamp like eyes glowing eerily in the fire light.

"I, er, I mean, we, were just coming to see if you had any extra food left over. We missed dinner--."

"Of course," Dobby said, nodding enthusiastically. "Anything for Harry Potter and his Wheezy. But, you must go back into the main kitchen. You isn't allowed back here, sir."

Harry opened his mouth to explain, but before he could get a word out, dozens of tiny hands pressed on the small of his back, shoving him and Ron out into the room beyond.

"Dobby," Harry said, once he and Ron were seated at the heavy, oak table, now laden with trays of delicious looking food and pitchers of pumpkin juice. "What was Dumbledore talking to you about?"

"Dumbledore?" Ron asked, looking around, puzzled. "Where?"

"In the fireplace," Harry said quickly. "I'll explain later."

Dobby looked increasingly uncomfortable. He had been wearing one of the hats that Hermione had knitted last year, but now was twisting it in his hands. His long fingers were clamped tightly around the wool, his knuckles turning white.

"Ooh, I wish you wouldn't ask such things, Harry Potter, sir. We isn't supposed to talk about it."

"Dobby," Ron said kindly, catching on. He leaned forward to take the elf by the shoulders. "Your secret is safe with us."

"Dumbledore said something about you being free to choose," Harry continued. "Free to choose what?"

Dobby hesitated, looking torn, and then said in a whisper, "Free to choose whether or not we is to be free house elves, sir." Dobby made to bang his head against the table leg, but Harry pulled him back by the collar of his thin tea towel.

"But that's no secret," he said, "Hermione's been trying for ages to free the house elves. What else is there, Dobby?"

Dobby's ears drooped. "Dumbledore is wanting the house elves to have a choice, sir, in case the war is brought to Hogwarts."

Harry blinked. _Well this makes no sense._ He exchanged a confused look with Ron.

"But what does that have to do with the price of dungbombs in Hogsmeade?" Ron exclaimed.

"A house elf's magical power is connected to his household, sir," Dobby explained. "We is stronger in magic when we is enslaved so that we can protect our owners. If we is freed, we is no longer required to protect our household, but we is weaker in return." He brightened suddenly. "Dobby volunteered to give up his freedom to help protect Hogwarts, but Dumbledore is saying no. Dumbledore is wanting Dobby to protect Harry Potter instead."

Harry stared at Dobby in disbelief.

"Ya hear that, Harry?" Ron said heartily, slapping him on the back. "Your very own house elf. Who says being a hero doesn't have its perks?"

Just then, footsteps were audible right outside the door, echoing outside in the stone corridor. Dobby froze, and turned his large, bat-like ears in the direction of the sound, obviously straining to listen.

"Those is Filch's footsteps. Follow me, Harry Potter. Quickly!"

Harry and Ron rose from the table and followed Dobby who was scurrying quickly into the back room.

"In here, in here," Dobby said, gesturing towards the large fireplace. He shoved a pot of Floo powder at them. "Bye, now," he said hurriedly as Filch's nasallyvoice called from the room they had just left.

"Peeves has struck again! I'm going to need some help in the trophy room..."

Harry dipped his hand into the pot and threw the powder into the fire. Flames surged and turned a brilliant green.

"Ready?" he asked Ron, who was hastily trying to swallow the last of a butter cream pastry.

"Yemph," he mumbled thickly, spraying a mouthful of crumbs.

Harry grabbed a fistful of Ron's robes as they stepped into the fireplace— Ron had to stoop to fit inside.

"Gryffindor Tower," Harry said.

"Grufflewhump," Ron said.

They were jerked back and in a flash found themselves hurtling through the Floo network. Harry tried to make out the different fireplaces as they flew by. He fancied he saw Professor Snape stirring a cauldron in one, but they passed by too quickly for him to be sure. Then, as suddenly as they started, they stopped and were thrown onto a cold stone floor. The flames flickered in the hearth behind them and went out, leaving them in darkness. Harry blinked to clear the afterimage of the fire from his eyesight, and barely made out an empty classroom. This was not Gryffindor Tower.

"Hey, this isn't Gryffindor Tower," Ron said as he tried in vain to brush soot off his robes.

"No kidding," Harry said dryly. "This is what happens when you Floo with your mouth full."

"What?" Ron said indignantly. "I clearly said Gryffindor Tower."

"No," Harry retorted, grinning at him. "_I_ clearly said Gryffindor Tower. _You_ clearly said 'grufflewhump.' I heard you."

"Well, nevermind," Ron said. "Let's see where we are and get back before Filch catches us."

Moving quietly, they crept towards the only door they could see. Outside of it, they could see the flickering light from a torch lit hallway. Harry peered his head around both ways and immediately recognised the two stone gargoyles that guarded Dumbledore's office.

"Hey! I know where we are," he said, feeling relieved. "We're in that classroom I hid in the other day. Let's go."

They stepped out into the hall, but as they passed the entrance to Dumbledore's office a sound of grating stone stopped them in their tracks. Harry turned to see a boy he had never seen emerging from the door to Dumbledore's office. He was of average height with light brown hair and hazel eyes. Besides the fact that he appeared thoroughly displeased, he looked completely ordinary, in a non-descript sort of way.

"What are you two looking at?" the boy snapped, brushing past them. "Sod off."

"That's no way to make friends if you're a new kid at school," Ron said to Harry, as they watched him retreat down the corridor.

"What makes you think he's new here?" Harry asked curiously.

"Well I've never seen him before, have you?" Ron asked. "He must be new or we'd at least recognise him."

"I dunno; I might not. What colour hair did he have again? Blonde?"

"Oh, who cares? Let's go on up to bed. I'm slee-e-py," Ron said, stifling a yawn and starting down the corridor.

By the time they reached the Fat Lady's portrait, they had forgotten about the boy completely.


	10. The Only Stupid Question

19

Chapter Ten

**The Only Stupid Question**

**H**arry awoke early the next morning to the patter of rain falling steadily outside his window and resigned himself to the fact that he would not be practising Quidditch with Ron today. Sighing, he reluctantly threw the covers back and got dressed quietly, as to not wake the others. He decided that since he was awake, he would go on up to the Owlery to write Lupin. He wanted to ask about Sirius' other mirror.

Harry stooped and rummaged through his trunk until he found what he was looking for- the enchanted parchment and quill that Hagrid had given him for his birthday. As he did, he noticed the box that Aunt Petunia had given him weeks earlier. He crammed the two items into his robe pocket along with a new bottle of ink, and decided to come back and look through the box when he finished sending off his letter.

As he walked to the Owlery, his footsteps echoed hauntingly in the corridors. He seemed to be the only person awake. He reached the door without incident and pushed it open, scanning the rafters for his snow-white owl.

"Hedwig" he called softly, spotting her high up in a corner. "I've got a letter to send Lupin; come down and sit with me while I write." She just looked back at him, opening and closing her yellow eyes lazily—all the while looking utterly non-plussed.

Harry frowned. "Come on, what's the matter with you" Hedwig blinked at him and, almost grudgingly, lifted her wings to fly down and settle on his shoulder.

"Now, was that so hard" he chided her, stroking her feathers gently. "Honestly, you're moodier than Ron."

She nipped his ear with affection, although it seemed half-hearted. Harry wrote the letter quickly. He kept to the point and only asked if Lupin knew anything of Sirius' other mirror because his stomach was already rumbling for breakfast.

Harry tied the parchment onto her leg and stroked Hedwig's feathery head one last time. "To Lupin, okay" She just cocked her head sideways, looking at him quizzically.

"Well, what are you waiting for? I haven't got any treats, if that's what you're after. Go on then." Hedwig blinked one more time before soaring up and gliding out the window, in the same slow, methodical way. Harry frowned again. It was not like Hedwig to be lazy, even if she was angry with him. He thought about asking Hagrid if he had ever heard of owls acting all wonky from time to time, but decided he was overreacting.

He walked to the nearest window to watch her fly away. It was then that he noticed three figures scurrying across the grounds to Hagrid's cabin. The first two he was able to make out instantly—Professors McGonagall and Snape. He pushed his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose and squinted. Was that... yes, it was definitely Arthur Weasley. Harry could see the sun glinting off his balding head. He turned and hurried down the stairs, hoping that Ron was already at breakfast.

He entered the Great Hall slightly out of breath, and was pleased to see that both Ron and Ginny were sitting at the Gryffindor table. "Great" he said pulling a plate of toast towards himself and sitting across from Ron. "Just the two people I wanted to see."

"Why?" Ron asked suspiciously. "You haven't got yourself into trouble already, have you? It's only breakfast. Where have you been"

"The Owlery" Harry said, with a touch of impatience. "Never mind about that, guess who I saw walking to Hagrid's cabin with McGonagall and Snape"

"No idea" Ron said glibly. "Hagrid"

Harry threw a bread crust at him. "Don't be such a berk. It was your dad."

"You're joking" Ron exclaimed, and his eyebrows shot up so high they threatened to disappear under his hair. He glanced at Ginny. "Why wouldn't he tell us he was coming to visit? Wonder what he's doing here..."

Ginny continued eating, and looked completely unsurprised.

"What" Ron demanded. "Do you know something"

She shrugged, calmly taking a sip of pumpkin juice before speaking. "I expect he's here to see about Hagrid's giants."

Ron choked on the hard-boiled egg he was eating, and Harry had to reach across the table to thump him on the back.

"How do you know about that" Ron spluttered, attempting to catch his breath.

"That's for me to know, and you to never find out" she said smiling in a very self-satisfied, irritating sort of way. Harry thought it was very reminiscent of how the twins had looked whenever they were up to something, which had been most of the time.

"I will tell you this" she continued. "I think they're going to see if Hagrid can teach the giants to guard Azkaban. Charlie told me that the dragons weren't... working out so well, and they've abandoned the idea of using them."

"They've lost it," Ron exclaimed. "Stark, raving mad the lot of them. Although this _is_ Hagrid we're talking about…"

Ginny glanced up suddenly. "Hey budge over," she said, elbowing Ron in the ribs. "Dean just came in; I told him I'd save him a seat."

"Nah, forget it," Ron said standing. "We're supposed to visit Hermione after breakfast anyway. C'mon Harry."

Harry stood, grabbing another piece of toast to eat on the way. "Want to join us later?" he asked Ginny.

"Wish I could," she said regretfully. "But I'm going to be in library all day. I've got loads of homework already."

He turned to leave, bumping into Seamus and Dean as he did so. "Hullo," he said smiling at them both.

"Morning," Seamus replied cheerfully. His hair was sticking up straight in the back, and he still had imprints of his sheets across his left cheek. Dean nodded politely but said nothing.

"Have you noticed Dean acting peculiarly?" Harry asked Ron once they were out of earshot.

"Well, I've always thought he was a funny bloke." Ron said, pausing at the foot of the stairs outside the Great Hall. "Ginny needs to get rid of him. She could do so much better."

Harry laughed. "Ron, you wouldn't like anyone Ginny dated."

"That's not necessarily true," Ron said cautiously, with a funny look on his face.

"Anyway," Harry said, looking around. "Why are we stopped here?"

"I've go to run up and get books for Hermione, so that she can study for a change. Want to wait here?"

"No," Harry said. "I want to get something as well."

Once they entered their dorm room, Harry went straight to his trunk and picked up the box he had hidden underneath all of his old robes.

"What's that?" Ron asked, peering over Harry's shoulder, his arms laden with several thick textbooks.

"It's this box of stuff Aunt Petunia gave me for my birthday this summer. I've been meaning to show it to you and Hermione. Now's as good of a time as any, I suppose."

"Cool," Ron said, looking interested. "Say, I didn't know your aunt even knew when your birthday was."

**H**ermione peered into the box. Harry was pleased to see how much better she looked than yesterday. She appeared to be well rested, and some of the colour had returned to her cheeks.

"Yeah, go figure," Harry said, shrugging. He and Ron sat in their usual places on either side of her hospital bed.

"Was this really your house?" Ron asked, holding up a worn newspaper clipping. "Hey, I think I see Dumbledore…" He squinted at the black and white photo, and turned it sideways to get a better look.

"What's this, Harry?" Hermione asked softly, pulling out a small notebook.

Harry swallowed. "It was my mum's journal, as far as I can tell. But there's nothing written in it that I can see."

"We thought that about Riddle's diary too, mate," Ron said, standing to get a better look.

"I know!" Harry exclaimed. "But I tried writing on it, and nothing happened. Except, well, now it's been scribbled in."

"Have you tried a Revealer?" Hermione asked, already reaching for her knapsack.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I've tried all of the obvious things. That's why I wanted you two to have a go at it… at the journal, I mean," he added, reddening slightly. Ron snorted loudly.

"Well…" Hermione said slowly, and successfully ignoring them both. "I could keep it for a few days if you'd like, and try some different spells."

"Yeah, alright," Harry agreed, nodding at her.

"Now," Hermione said briskly. "You didn't get a chance to tell me about your visit to Hagrid's yesterday. How is he?"

Ron shook his head. "Well, he's definitely in full force. He's got a colony of giants hidden in the Forbidden Forest."

"A colony? G-giants?" Hermione squeaked.

"Yeah, but don't worry, there's only _twelve_ of them," Harry added sardonically.

"But they're not _big_ giants?" she asked worriedly.

"Big giants? Hermione, that's why they're called _giants._ If they were tiny, they'd be called 'smalls' or something." Ron said, looking exasperated.

"No, small like Grawp," Hermione replied. Harry raised his eyebrows at her.

"I mean, small for a giant. Oh you know what I'm talking about!" she exclaimed, glowering at Ron and Harry's smirks.

"Well, we didn't think to ask anyway," Ron said.

"How is he keeping them hidden then?" she persisted. "Surely some of them are taller than the trees. Students are bound to notice."

Harry and Ron exchanged glances.

"We… didn't think to ask," Harry said finally.

"Never mind," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "I'll ask him myself on Tuesday when we have Care of Magical Creatures."

"That's not all, though," Ron said quickly. "Harry saw my dad at Hagrid's hut this

morning. Ginny reckons they may be trying to train the giants to guard Azkaban."

"Well, they couldn't be any worse than the dragons," she said thoughtfully, chewing on a

piece of her hair.

"Listen to this," Harry said, leaning forward. "Ron and I went down to the kitchens last

night…"

"**H**ouse elves lose some of their power if they leave their home?" Hermione cried after

hearing Harry and Ron recount the events of the previous evening. "What rubbish. No wonder I

am having such a hard time convincing them to be free. There must be something I can do…"

her voice trailed off, and Harry could practically see the wheels turning in her head.

Hermione looked up suddenly. "What about Winky? How is she doing?"

Harry was startled. Now that she mentioned it, he hadn't seen Winky among the elves in

the kitchen.

"She wasn't there," he explained.

Hermione raised her eyebrows. "Well, _where was she?_"

Ron swallowed audibly. "We, er… didn't think to ask?"

Hermione buried her face in her hands. "Fine inspectors you two make," she grumbled.

"Don't want to be an inspector," Ron said. "I've never looked good in tweed."

Harry looked around the room for something else to talk about, and spotted a folded copy

of _The Daily Prophet_ on the nightstand next to the bed.

"Anything good in the paper?" he asked, picking it up.

Hermione lifted her head, scowling slightly at it. "I guess it depends on what your

definition of 'good' is. People are still attacking each other, and if you read between the lines, it

looks like the Ministry is clueless and its resources are draining trying to settle petty disputes. If

I had to guess, I'd say it's all being done to distract the Ministry from something else. If that's

the case, then it's working." She sighed, "Other than that, there is not much else mentioned,

except details about a memorial for Fudge planned soon."

"Can I see it?" Ron asked, reaching across the bed towards the paper. As he did, his

arm hit Harry's box, knocked it off the bed, and sent its contents flying.

"Sorry!" he exclaimed, as Harry stooped to retrieve his things. Harry made a face at Ron

and reached for the journal, which had landed under the bed adjacent to Hermione's. As he

stretched his arm out, the silvery scar on the back of his hand caught his eye. It was the scar he

earned in Dolores Umbridge's detentions last year. _Blood writing._ A thought struck him so hard

he jumped, hitting his head on the underside of the bed.

"Oww!" he cried, clutching at his head and standing. Ron and Hermione stared at him.

"I, uh, stood up too fast," he said sheepishly. "I'm going to go… I forgot I needed to

do… something."

He took the box from Ron, and ran from the infirmary up to his dorm, leaving Ron

and Hermione to stare bewildered at his back. Once there he scanned the room for what he

needed. His eyes fell on a muggle penknife sitting on Dean's bedside table. He grabbed it, and

clambered onto his bed, drawing the curtain around him.

"Let it work," Harry whispered and opened the journal, laying it across his lap. He took a

deep breath and picked up the knife. After flipping it open, he cut a small gash across the palm

of his hand and let several drops of blood splatter across the page.

Harry blinked. The crimson coloured liquid spread out across the paper in thin spidery

lines, finally forming into neat, cursive handwriting before turning black. He picked up the

book and flipped through it, feeling awestruck. Harry realised that the journal was deceptively

thin as there were hundreds of entries spanning several years. He picked one close to the

beginning and read:

_December 18th, 1976_

_The headaches have returned worse than ever. I hadn't had one_

_in a few days, and hoped it was all over. I just could've cried in_

_Charms today when the all too familiar throbbing returned. The_

_ school nurse may know what's wrong with me, but I am almost _

_afraid to ask. What if it is something horrible? I might rather _

_not know. I need to talk to someone, I feel so alone…_

Harry sat back, stunned. It felt so strange to read his mother's words; she sounded so

young. He looked back at the date written above the entry- December 1976. That made her the

same age as Harry was now. She must've been in her sixth year at Hogwarts when she wrote this.

He turned to the next page, but found no further mention of her headaches.

Harry read on for hours, losing complete track of time, until the next thing he knew, Ron

was shaking his shoulder and bright light was streaming through the gap in his curtains.

"Harry, c'mon mate, I know you need your beauty rest, but you've been asleep for

about twelve hours now."

Harry groaned and struggled to sit upright, his joints aching from lying so long in one

position. The journal slipped off his chest and fell to the bed. Ron picked it up and looked at

it curiously. Harry noticed that the pages were blank again.

"Hey, were you able to read it?" Ron asked with interest.

"Yeah," Harry said, stretching and yawning. "Must've fallen asleep doing so. What

time is it?"

"Breakfast just started. You slept through dinner and everything. Did you find out

anything interesting?" he asked, gesturing towards the journal.

"I sure did," Harry said. "But let me tell you on the way to breakfast, I'm starved."

He had just finished telling Ron how he figured out the way to read the journal and what

he had found out when Hermione joined them at their table in the Great Hall, after being released

from the infirmary, and he had to start all over again.

"Wow," Hermione said once she heard his story. "I didn't even consider using blood. I

bet it only works for you because you share your mother's blood. I doubt it would work for Ron

or me."

Harry swallowed a mouthful of eggs and nodded. "I bet you're right."

"And you didn't learn anything else about those headaches?"

He shook his head. "Nah, not really. The last I remember reading was… early March of

1977, I think. She only mentioned briefly that she was still having headaches off and on." He

paused as he spotted Katie Bell approaching them, looking determined.

"Potter," she said, eyeing him sharply. "You're not sick are you?"

"No," he said, taken aback. "Why, do I look like it?" His hand went automatically to his

hair as he tried to flatten it down. He was keenly aware that he had forgotten to brush it this

morning, and was still wearing the same robes from yesterday.

"No," Katie replied, "but I didn't see you at dinner last night, and Weasley here said you

were sleeping."

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "I was just… well, sleeping."

"Let's hope you're rested now,we've got Quidditch practise after dinner

tonight."

"Great," Harry said, genuinely looking forward to it. "I may be a little late though—I

have to meet with Professor Dumbledore first."

She glared at him. "Can you skip it? We've got a lot of players to replace, and I need all

hands on deck."

"No," Harry said firmly.

"Well be there as soon as you can, then." She gave one last irritable look at him, before

joining some of her friends down at the other end of the table.

Ron leaned forward. "Why is it that everyone goes insane when they become Quidditch

captain?"

Harry sighed. "I dunno, but at this rate I'm never going to have time to finish reading

that journal. I've got those meetings with Dumbledore _and_ with Snape, and Quidditch

practise…"

"And DA meetings," Ron said.

"And Animagus potion brewing," Hermione added with a smug look.

Harry and Ron turned to look at her, surprised.

She grinned. "I thought we could start Wednesday before the DA meeting. That reminds

me, Harry, we need to talk to Tonks and make sure that it is alright with her."

"Okay," Harry said. "We'll see her tomorrow in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Right," Hermione said, standing and glancing at her watch. "We'd best get a move on,

or we'll be late for Herbology."

Ron stretched lazily before standing reluctantly and gathering his backpack. Harry

followed him and Hermione from the Great Hall, where he promptly ran into Ginny as she

rounded the corner.

"Harry!" she exclaimed. "I'm glad I saw you." She glanced up at Ron, who was listening with keen interest. "Go away. It's none of your concern," she said bluntly, while giving Harry a meaningful stare.

"It's okay," Harry said, nodding at Ron and Hermione. "I'll catch you up."

"Fine. Whatever. Keep your nasty little secrets then," Ron grumbled, grabbing Hermione's hand and leading her towards the large double doors opening to the grounds outside.

"Don't forget we're in Greenhouse four today," Hermione called to Harry over her shoulder, her cheeks slightly pink.

"What's the matter?" he asked, turning to face Ginny.

"Thursday night I want you to meet me in the common room after everyone has gone to bed," she said matter-of-factly.

Harry felt his body give an involuntary jerk. "Wha- why?" he stammered.

"You prat," she said, laughing good-naturedly. "I mean, I want you to meet me so that we can plan our first prank. There's something I want to try out on the Slytherins."

"Oh! Right!" Harry said, feeling his heart start to beat again. "Okay then, what did you have in mind?"

She glanced up the corridor at a group of oncoming second years. "Not now, there are a few things I need to work out first anyway. I'll just tell you everything on Thursday."

"Oh. Right." Harry said again. He wondered why his vocabulary had suddenly shrunk to the size of Crabbe's or Goyle's. "I'd best get to class anyway."

They walked down the hall until Ginny paused to turn up the stairwell to Gryffindor Tower.

"See you at practise tonight?" Harry asked her.

"With bells on," she said, flashing him a grin and running up the stairs.

**B**y the time Harry reached Greenhouse four, Professor Sprout had already begun her lesson. To Harry's great surprise, standing next to her was Neville Longbottom looking worried, but resolved.

He tried to slip quietly into a seat next to Ron and Hermione without Professor Sprout noticing, but failed miserably. "Five points, Mr. Potter, for being late. On the first day of my class, no less," she said, frowning at him.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry said, hurriedly pulling out his text. He could almost feel Hermione's irritation at losing points coming off her in waves.

"If you'll kindly join the rest of the class in turning to page twelve, we will continue our lesson on the Mimbulus Mimbletonia. Mr. Longbottom has been good enough to bring in his own plant from home to share with us today," Professor Sprout continued.

Harry jerked his head up. He had only just realised that sitting on the trestle bench in front of him was not a small tree as he had first thought, but was indeed the Mimbulus Mimbletonia that Neville had shown him on the train last year. Harry hardly recognised the plant. It was much thicker, and had grown at least another foot in height. It also seemed to be pulsating with some sort of warm red light.

Neville cleared his throat loudly. "Yes. Right then. This- this is the Mimbulus Mimbletonia, as you know. Be- because Professor Sprout just said that, of course." He shuffled his feet nervously and Harry heard a few students in the back titter.

Neville straightened suddenly, and placed his hand on the top of the plant. It glowed a deep red colour. Then, with seemingly newfound determination, Neville went on with his lecture with the strongest voice Harry had ever heard him use. "The Mimbulus Mimbletonia has many magical properties. Because of this, it is extremely useful in various different potions…"

Ron poked him in the ribs with a bony elbow.

"What?" Harry mouthed. Ron tilted his head slightly,and looked over his shoulder. Harry followed his gaze and saw that a group of Slytherins, including Draco Malfoy, was sitting directly behind them.

Harry scowled. "Great choice of seats," he muttered sarcastically. "We're never going to get rid of them, are we?"

Malfoy looked up at them, and glared malevolently. Harry bit back an angry comment as he realised that Neville had finished talking and that Professor Sprout had walked over to the enormous plant.

"Very good. Now, Mr. Longbottom, why don't you demonstrate to the rest of the class how the Mimbulus Mimbletonia is able to defend itself?"

Harry groaned as Neville reached to poke at the plant with a feather tip quill. "Duck!" he hissed, pulling Ron and Hermione down to the floor. It was just in time. No sooner had their heads disappeared under the table, than an enormous stream of stink sap shot out of the plant and landed directly on… Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson. Pansy shrieked and grabbed on to Draco, causing them to both slip and fall on the goo covering the floor. The greenhouse filled with laughter.

"Oh, dear," Neville said, looking distraught. "I thought I had fixed that…"

"Classic," Ron chortled and even Hermione could not repress a giggle.

Draco and Pansy were drenched, and Draco's hair was soaked in the slimy, oozing sap. Harry grinned at Malfoy, who now looked murderous.

"Oh, dear," Professor Sprout said, hurrying forward. She had the appearance of someone trying hard not to laugh. "Mr. Malfoy, Miss Parkinson, you are excused. Go on back to the castle and get changed."

"You'd better hope this stuff's not poisonous, Longbottom," Draco said menacingly, shooting daggers out of his eyes at Neville. "As it is, you're going to buy me new robes. Good thing you're not Weasley or you wouldn't be able to afford it." He turned and stomped out, slamming the greenhouse door behind him before Professor Sprout had time to reprimand him.

"That would be a bit more effective if he didn't look like a drowned rat," Ron said. Both Harry and Hermione laughed heartily.

**T**he rest of the day passed uneventfully, although it left Harry with a bit more homework than he would have liked. After their last class, Transfiguration, he hurried up to Gryffindor Tower to drop off his backpack and grab his Firebolt before heading back down to the Great Hall for a quick supper before meeting Dumbledore.

"Welcome, Harry," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat slightly as Harry entered his office. "Good day?"

"Erm, I guess," Harry answered, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot. He was anxious to get started, and would rather skip the pleasantries.

"Have a seat." Dumbledore gestured to a plump armchair sitting across the desk from him. "Now," he said, once Harry was settled. "I had planned on teaching you Occlumency; however, by the recent decline of Professor Snape's already surly behaviour, I judge that you may already have found someone to practise with?"

Harry nodded. "I thought that Sn- _Professor _Snape would offer a greater… um, challenge."

"Indeed. A wise decision, Harry, I must say that I'm surprised."

Harry raised his eyebrows, causing Dumbledore to laugh. "Surprised that you would ask Snape, not surprised that you are capable of making a wise decision." Dumbledore stood then, and gestured that Harry do the same. "Wand out Harry. Today I want to teach you about conjuring magical shields. Have you learned anything about them in your personal studies?"

Harry nodded. "I've read about them. They last longer than _Protego,_ the shield charm, and are stronger, as well."

"Excellent. That is correct. Now watch carefully. _Contego."_ Dumbledore pointed his wand out straight, and immediately a shining, silver incandescent shield appeared before him. Harry was strongly reminded of the shield Dumbledore used when fighting Voldemort at the Ministry of Magic last year.

"Of course," Dumbledore continued. "Your shield can look like anything, it's simply a tool to help focus the magical power in your mind, much like a wand does." He let his wand drop, and the glimmering shield vanished. "Now, why don't you give it a try?"

"Okay," Harry said. He tried to concentrate on the image of a shield. Once he had it pictured in his mind he drew out his wand, and shoved up the sleeves of his robe. "Contego. Contego,"he murmured, trying to get the feel of the word in his mouth.

"_Contego!_" he shouted and thrust his wand out before him. From its tip a perfectly shaped, ornate golden shield appeared… and it was about the size of one of Dobby's ears.

"Oh, my," Dumbledore said, smiling slightly. "A little less detail next time, perhaps? Focus more on size, and function."

"Right," Harry said, furrowing his brow.

They practised for another hour until Harry was able to form a medium sized, dull grey shield that blocked most curses. The only problem was, whenever he tried to cast another spell simultaneously, the shield would dissipate and fade away.

"Concentration is the key," Dumbledore explained. "It is very difficult to hold more than one spell at a time. Work on it this week, Harry, and we'll try it again when we next meet. I believe Miss Bell is expecting you down at the Quidditch pitch now?"

"Too right," Harry grumbled, remembering the Chaser's attitude regarding his being late to practise. "I do have one question, though," he said as he bent to pick up his broomstick, and headed towards the door.

"If your question is 'why do house elves love tea cozies so much', then I have no idea. Otherwise, ask away," Dumbledore said blandly.

Harry blinked. He never could figure out Dumbledore's sense of humour. "It's about our DA meetings," he said. "Our first one of the year is this week, and I was wondering how much you think I should teach them?"

"I assume you mean in regards to what you learn here?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry nodded.

"It's an excellent question," Dumbledore sighed. Moreover, I'm afraid it's one without a straightforward answer. Do you teach your friends everything you know, so that they can best defend themselves, even against you? On the other hand, do you hold back, so that you will always have the upper hand? It is a sad day when one is not able to trust even his classmates. Decide as you will, Harry, but I believe that a clever wizard always leaves a few tricks up his sleeve, so to speak."

**Q**uidditch practise was well under way by the time Harry reached the grounds. There were several clusters of Gryffindors spread out over the pitch, and Harry assumed there were separate groups for each position.

"Oy, Harry, over here!" Katie Bell called to him from the center of the pitch.

He trotted out to meet her, and she started talking as soon as he was within earshot.

"So, I've got different stations for those trying out for Chaser, Beater, and Keeper positions. No Seeker, however. Seems no one wanted to try to go up against you, Harry. Can't imagine why. I've been floating between the Beater and Chaser groups, and Ron has been with the Keeper group. He's none too happy about that, though. I keep telling him he's not going to be replaced, it's just a good idea to have a back up player, you know? Still, he looks a bit panicky. And I need you to take over the Beater group for a while, in my place. I want a chance to see everyone play. Can't be too careful, you know?"

She said all of this in one breath, and Harry wondered if she had a bit too much pumpkin juice to drink with her dinner.

Harry found that the groups of students trying out for the Beater position were very diverse. Jack Sloper was back, but not Andrew Kirke, who was last heard to have said that "Quidditch is for ninnys." Besides Jack, there were two boys in the third year who looked as if their body weight combined would still not equal Harry's—and that was saying something. However, a fifth year named Sal looked promising. He was athletic looking and was at least as tall as Ron. And, almost hidden behind the group was…

"_Seamus?"_ Harry gasped. "I didn't know you were trying out!"

"I didn't know meself, until Dean talked me into it last night."

"Have you ever played before?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, loads of times," Seamus said, shrugging nonchalantly. "My primary school had a league during summer holiday."

"Cool," Harry said, grinning at him. "Well, let's get started then, shall we? Everyone pair off—that means groups of _two_," he said pointedly at Sal and the two third years who had clumped together.

"I didn't know math was going to be involved," the smallest boy complained loudly.

"Er, right," Harry said, exchanging a bemused look with Seamus. "Seamus, why don't you switch out with Jack occasionally since there's an odd number." He handed two Bludgers and clubs to Sal and Jack, and climbed onto his broom, rising a few feet in the air.

"Now, I'm going to fly around in circles above you all. What I want you both to do is try and hit me with your Bludgers."

"What, is that all?" Sal exclaimed loudly.

"Well," Harry said, feeling somewhat smug. "I think you'll find that it's more difficult to do than you thin—oof!" He flipped upside down quickly to keep from having his face smashed in by the Bludger, which resembled a great blue blur as it sped by. "Or not so difficult," he muttered under his breath, swinging himself upright.

Sal smiled broadly at him. "Must've been beginner's luck."

"Yes, well, better luck next time," Harry said crossly, clenching his jaws. He wasn't going to let this cheeky fellow top him again. For the next hour everyone continued to take turns aiming at him at the Bludger, but only Sal proved to be a challenge—although Harry was careful not to be bested. By the time that Katie indicated that practise was over he was exhausted, but exhilarated. It was great to be back at Quidditch.

"Well, what do you think?" Katie asked him enthusiastically after almost everyone had gone back up to the castle. "I, for one, am relieved. I was afraid everyone would be rubbish, but we've got quite a lot of talent to pick from, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Seamus is good, and that Sal—"

"Ooh, yes!" Katie exclaimed, practically jumping with excitement. "I saw that Bludger nearly take your head off. It was incredible!"

"Yeah, it was incredible alright," Harry said dryly, rubbing the back of his neck. He seemed to have given himself whiplash.

"Of course," Katie continued without hearing him. "If we put Sal on the team, it will be the first female Beater that Gryffindor has had in ages."

Harry dropped the two Bludgers he had been holding. "_What! _ Sal is a _girl_? Are you sure?"

"Quite," Katie said firmly. "Her real name is Sally-Anne, or something, but she likes to go by Sal. I think she got held back a year. And, I'll admit, she is a bit of a tomboy."

"A bit! She- oh Merlin, I hope I didn't say anything stupid. I am such a prat."

"No arguments here," Ron said he as walked up. Ginny and Hermione, who had been watching from the stands, were close behind him.

"What's up?" Ginny asked quizzically, looking from Harry to Katie.

"He's only just realised that Sal was a girl," Katie said, rolling her eyes.

"Oh, honestly," Hermione said exasperatedly. "What is it with you two? Sometimes I think that you and Ron have blinders on when it comes to girls." She exchanged a look with Ginny.

"Come off it," Ron protested. "I noticed you, didn't I?"

"Yes, well done," Hermione said. "It only took you five years."

"And a raging row in the Common Room," Harry added.

"Or two," said Ginny, smiling.

"Or three," Katie said.

Ron narrowed his eyes. "Oh, yeah? Well do you know what I have to say about that?" he said, taking a step towards Hermione.

"No, what?" she said, frowning.

"This!" Ron grabbed her and threw her over his shoulder, tickling her mercilessly.

"Ah!" Hermione shrieked. "No, Ron, stop!" However, she was laughing in spite of herself.

Ginny and Katie were giggling as well at the site of Hermione flailing helplessly against Ron's back. Harry smiled at his friends having fun, but suddenly felt very tired. His head was throbbing and all he wanted to do was lie down.

"I'm going to bed," he announced leaving them standing on the pitch as he walked alone up to the castle.


End file.
